Chapter 22

Harlan paced Wellington's parlor that evening. He was restless, but he wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was the fact that they were going to be embarking on a dangerous gamble with Leah's life in a few days, or perhaps it was because an inner sense was warning him that something was wrong. He generally never got this apprehensive unless there was a reason. A bad reason.

He was waiting for Hugh to arrive. He had written earlier that day with an urgent appeal to meet at the duke's house as soon as possible. Lucas had joined them within the hour after Harlan had notified him. Benjamin had taken a bit longer, but when it came to sending messages through the underground of London, it was a bit more complicated and coded missives were involved. It wouldn't do for notifications of a sensitive nature to end up in the wrong hands. With sympathizers to the revolution all around them, it would be detrimental to both the Crown and the Home Office if their secrets were intercepted. All of the work they had done to secure the queen's reign thus far would start to unravel around them.

"What the hell is taking so long?" Harlan gritted through his teeth. He stood by the window and looked out at the street with a dark frown that was reflected in the pane.

"Perhaps it is because you keep glancing at the clock every five minutes," Lucas drawled, his mocking tone doing nothing to ease Harlan's mind.

When Harlan sent him a glare, Lucas held up his hands in surrender. Benjamin dared to make the next attempt to speak. "If you're worried something might have happened to him, we both know Hugh is cunning when the situation warrants it. It was because of his skills and strategy that he was able to secure his lovely wife's hand when there were many men in the village who thought it impossible."

"I'm well aware of Hugh's talents. It is one of the reasons that I requested his services for this particular mission." Harlan turned back to the street. "It's not his welfare that concerns me. It's what news he finds so imperative to share."

There was a pause and then he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He glanced over to see Wellington with an empathic gaze. "Love often makes us nervous, or reckless. Be sure that you keep a clear head with whatever information he might provide us."

Harlan was grateful for the duke's calm assurance. In the midst of a turbulent mindset, it was the anchor that he needed. "Thank you, Your Grace."

Arthur removed his hand, but he remained at the window with Harlan. "There were many times in battle when I was just as eager for action as you are now. Men valiantly fought at my side and died for their efforts. I wanted to make sure their sacrifices weren't in vain." He lifted a brow. "I shouldn't worry about Miss Lindquist. She is a woman dedicated to her task. She won't let us down, and neither will she allow the enemy to intrude. She is resourceful and intelligent."

More of Harlan's apprehension started to wane. He thought about the fire in her eyes when she'd tried to escape at the cottage, and the way she'd set down her foot to him at the windmill. "It's true. She is quite remarkable. A force of nature."

Their attention was quickly diverted by the arrival of a man on horseback, who turned out to be a familiar figure. By the time he'd dismounted and entered the parlor, Harlan was the first person that Hugh saw. "What's happened?" he demanded.

Hugh didn't waste time, a fact for which he was grateful. "It seems you were right about the vicar. He isn't as impeccable as he would like his congregation to believe." Harlan uttered a curse under his breath, but he said nothing as Hugh continued. "He has been stealing funds meant for the church and passing them on to the rebellion. It seems that he was promised a seat at the high council if he helped to secure the English throne for Ernest Augustus."

"Do you have credible information to this claim?" Wellington interjected. "We shouldn't wish to make false accusations against anyone in the royal family without just cause."

Hugh reached into his pocket and extended a sealed missive to him. "We have a full accounting from the vicar's wife. It seems that the rebellion heard of Mr. Bernard's prowess during the war with France when he was fighting under Bonaparte. As Bernard's sister, Agnes was privy to much of the information passed back and forth between her husband and Bernard through the months. She mentions that Lindquist kept her drugged most of the time and that the only reason he married her was because of her tie to Bernard. She believed she was marrying a God-fearing man, but instead, she exchanged vows with a charlatan."

Harlan scrubbed a hand down his face when Wellington asked, "How were you able to gain this letter without her husband present?"

"Henry left Dudley shortly before I did. I was in the village at the local inn when he walked in and spoke a few words with the barkeep. I thought it curious that they seemed to be holding such an in-depth conversation in private, so I followed them out the back. That's when I saw Mr. Bernard exit an outbuilding and mount a horse alongside his brother-in-law. I would have taken off in pursuit then, but I went back to Lindquist's house to speak to his wife."

"Do you know where they were headed?" Harlan demanded.

Hugh looked directly at Harlan and his stomach dropped to the floor. "Agnes was particularly eager to tell everything she'd overheard. Apparently, her husband and Bernard were conspiring to infiltrate the palace. Henry had been conducting an affair with one of the women involved with the rebellion. She had been hired on as a maid and claimed that she could get him on as a footman—"

Harlan didn't need to hear anything further. The warning that had been nagging at him all day turned into an alarm of epic proportions. "Where is Agnes now?"

"I took her to Birmingham to stay with her sister and her husband in case the vicar decided to retaliate," Hugh returned. "She is currently our only credible witness and needed to be around people that could be trusted."

Harlan addressed everyone in the room. "I have the feeling that our villains are at the palace, or soon will be. We will have to be cautious about our approach."

"What do you suggest?" Hugh asked.

Harlan's eyes were focused when he said, "I have a plan…"

Leah sputteredwhen the water was thrown on her face. She gasped to regain the oxygen that had been abruptly denied her earlier and blinked at the man holding the empty pitcher in his grasp. She expected to see Bernard, but the man wearing footman's clothing wasn't the assassin—it was her brother.

"Henry?" She looked about the room, but they were the only two there. She tried to move in the chair she had been placed in, but her wrists and ankles had been bound together with rope. "Don't tell me that you are a part of this ridiculous rebellion?"

"It's not ridiculous," he noted with a condescending smile on his face. "It's how things were meant to be. It was a string of bad luck that ended with that girl on the throne." He spat the word as if it was an obscenity. "She doesn't know how to run a great nation like England. We need a strong ruler, one who can stand proud and true."

"And you truly think Victoria can't be powerful?" She shook her head. "That is where you are wrong. She is an exceptional woman who is being trained on how to lead this country. You are making a mistake by doing this. You shall be branded a traitor to the rightful heir and hang for your crimes."

He shrugged, as if the idea of facing the noose was of no consequence to him, and she was convinced that he imagined himself immune to such consequences. At the moment, he believed that he retained the upper hand with Mr. Bernard at his side. "Be that as it may, it will not matter overlong. The issue is being dealt with."

Leah froze. "What have you done with the queen?"

"Don't worry about her." His smile was oily as he calmly sat down across from her. It gave Leah the opportunity she needed to shake down the knife she'd hidden under her sleeve. When she'd left the maid in the butler's pantry, something told her the weapon might come in useful. She'd been right.

As she started to slowly saw at the bindings around her wrists, she said, "I demand to know where Her Majesty is."

"Safe. For now." He offered another condescending smile and Leah knew it would take all of her self-control not to use her knife on him when she was finished. Blood or not, what he was doing was wrong. "I'm more interested in the plans I have for you once this nastiness is over."

The blade nearly slipped from her grasp. Thankfully, she was able to catch it before it clattered to the floor, but she winced when the blade sliced her finger. "What are you talking about?"

"The marriage between you and Bernard, of course. He has taken quite a shine to you, and you might be so fortunate to gain the attention of such a considerable man. Do you know he took out most of the British forces during the war? He was quite a celebrated hero in France." He smiled proudly.

"Was he?" Leah adopted a bored tone. "And yet, for all his efforts, Napoleon was still defeated."

"A minor technicality in the grand scheme of things," Henry murmured crossly. "But with the support from the King of Hanover, France will soon gain the respect that has been denied them since Napoleon was exiled and died in a state of melancholy."

Leah snorted. "England is one of the greatest nations in the world. You believe that you will succeed in your endeavors where others have failed?"

"I do." He smiled. "Because I have the power of the lord on my side."

"The only thing you have is madness," Leah countered hotly. "I won't let you get away with this."

He got to his feet. "You have no choice in the matter," he stated calmly as he withdrew a pistol. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I would have hoped that you might come to your senses and choose the correct side, but you are like so many others and refuse to accept the eventuality of the cause."

"And that is?" Leah prompted, as the bindings around her wrists started to loosen.

He waved his hand in the air with a dramatic flair. "La Révolution."

Leah threw down the ropes that had been holding her wrists together and, although her ankles were still bound to the chair, she was confident enough in her aim that when she brought the knife forward and let it fly toward Henry, it quickly met its mark, imbedding itself in his shoulder. With a howl of pain, he fell back and collapsed onto the floor, the pistol slipping out of his grasp and skidding across the floor.

Time stood still as both of them abruptly looked toward the weapon. Henry, still clasping his injured shoulder to staunch the flow of blood, moved toward the pistol at the same time Leah dove for it, while her legs remained tied to the chair. It didn't inhibit her movements to the point she wasn't able to grasp the handle before he did.

Pulling back the hammer, she aimed it at him and warned, "Don't move." Henry groaned and let his head fall back to the floor. It was more challenging to untie the knots of the rope with one hand, but she managed to do so with blood dripping down her fingers. When she was free, she waved the pistol toward the chair she'd just vacated. Henry glared mutinously at her, but reluctantly picked himself off the floor and sat down. Tossing the rope about his midsection, she made sure to secure his arms and body.

He moaned about his shoulder the entire time. "I can't believe you stabbed me! I'm your flesh and blood! A man of the cloth!"

"Oh, do shut up," she snapped uncharitably. "Trust me, you deserved it." Taking the pistol, she held the barrel next to his temple at the same time she removed the knife protruding from his shoulder. She gained a loud howl of pain from that. "Now, unless you would like this to get a lot more egregious, I suggest you tell me where the queen is."

His mouth turned down in the corners, and she wondered if he was going to speak at all, but when he realized the odds were stacking against him, he snarled, "She's not down at the old Tyburn, if that's what you fear, or the tunnels that lead beneath the city streets."

Leah had never heard of either. Either way, she was tired of playing games, and time was running out. "My patience wears thin, brother."

He laughed, but it was without humor—bitter in its tone. "My father could have done great things, married a sensible woman with good fortune. We would have wanted for nothing. Instead, he had to marry that ridiculous woman without anything to offer us."

"They had love and compassion for one another, something you would know nothing about," Leah returned firmly. "Our father was devastated by my mother's death, so much that he used the last of his wealth to travel the world searching for the same sort of joy she had given him."

"Foolish sentimentality!" Henry shouted, his face turning red from his frustrations. "He offered me nothing but a name that I've had to struggle to lift out of the mire through the years."

Leah snorted. "It wasn't so long ago I was a guest at your house and it didn't seem that you were wanting for much." She gritted her teeth. "It's unfortunate that you didn't appreciate your wife or your position before they are stripped away from you."

With clear eyes free of haze, he said calmly, "I shall be rewarded in Heaven for my efforts to free us all from royal tyranny."

She shook her head. "It's a wonder you have no idea that what you are doing is wrong. But you soon will." She reminded him of her upper hand by pressing the barrel harder against his head and enunciating each word slowly. "I shall not ask again. Where. Is. The. Queen?"

Wearingdark clothing to better blend into their surroundings, Harlan, Hugh, Lucas, Benjamin, and a handful of constables approached the palace on foot, without the added distraction of carriages or horses. Distancing themselves on the grounds, the police fanned out to quietly inform the palace soldiers that there was a breach of security and the queen had been compromised. Harlan and his three cohorts each took a separate wing of the palace and began to scale the walls.

Harlan had chosen the oldest part of the palace, and as he silently opened an unlocked window and dropped down to the floor on quiet feet, he paused to listen. When all remained still and no footsteps came running to sound the alarm, he continued on his way. He kept to the shadows around him and started to creep forward, careful to listen for any sound that might assist him in saving the queen—and Leah.

He swallowed hard, telling himself that he would suffer any regrets or guilt later. He had already begun lamenting Leah's involvement in this disaster. He should have known that a man like Bernard wouldn't waste time waiting for them to lay a trap, or strike when they imagined he might do so. He was a man who had been celebrated throughout France for his exploits. Lucas had discovered that he was Napoleon's personal secret weapon, and it was certainly understandable how he had gained the honorific. Bernard was the one man that Harlan hadn't been able to outmatch, and yet, he knew he must if he was to do his job properly and keep those that depended on him to remain alive. He might not survive this endeavor, but he would never quit. His country and his queen were too important to him. Leah was too important to him.

Again, he had to force her from his mind, or else it would be impossible for him to keep his mind on what he needed to do. With a knife securely in his grasp and his pistol within easy reach, he was prepared to do what was necessary. It wouldn't be the first time he'd taken a life out of necessity, but he vowed it would be the last. He wanted to start a new life. It was time. He just prayed that, now that he'd found the one person he wanted to settle down with, he wasn't denied the opportunity.

Harlan clenched his jaw and cleared his mind of anything other than his mission. He moved from corridor to corridor, swiftly checking rooms that he passed. He was just starting to wonder if one of his men might be having better luck when he spied a figure heading down a set of stairs in the oldest part of the palace, back when it could be traced back to decades of Duke of Buckingham descendants. After the King George III acquired the house and grounds, it went through extensive restorations. He'd expanded the residence to be a personal retreat for his wife, Queen Charlotte. Over the years, it had steadily become much more than a home, but a prominent image of the British monarchy.

As Harlan set out after the mysterious figure leading down to the expansive wine cellars, his heart started hammering.

Harlan paused before he stepped out into the open, vigilant that he wasn't walking into a carefully laid trap. When he saw nothing more than the solitary shadow cast upon the wall as the figure continued to hasten along, he decided that he wasn't in any immediate danger, so he moved onward.

He was about to turn a corner when he noticed the stranger paused by a door that led into the cellars. There was no light coming from beneath the interior to light the way, or to discern if anyone might be within.

His pulse pounding steadily, Harlan crept closer, cautious not to make the slightest sound. As he drew closer, he happened to notice the hem of a garment, along with a pair of dainty bare feet, just around the corner.

Immediately, Harlan relaxed slightly, but then he had to wonder what Leah was doing down here—alone.

When he was close enough that he could reach out and grab her effectively, he pounced, bringing her back against his chest at the same time his hand went over her mouth. She started to scream into his hand, but then she trained her focus on him. Once she did, he could feel her body sag with relief. He slowly removed his arm from around her waist and held a finger up to his mouth. When she nodded, he removed the other hand from around her mouth.

She sagged against the stone wall at her back. "You nearly frightened me to death," she accused on a harsh whisper.

He ignored her statement as he glanced pointedly at the cellar. "Why are you down here?"

She glanced behind him, as if concerned that there might be someone sneaking up on him, and then she backed them further away from the door, presumably, so that they could speak a bit more openly without the risk of being overhead. "My brother is here," she explained, her words coming out soft and rapid. "He is in league with Mr. Bernard to support the rebellion." She shook her head.

Harlan didn't tell her that he already knew that. "Go on."

"He'd tied me to a chair so I did what any other lady would do. I managed to get free using a knife I carried on my person, and then I stabbed him with the same knife."

His frown returned. He might just have to offer another wound to Lindquist for daring to harm a hair on Leah's head.

She motioned toward the door. "Henry told me that Bernard had taken the queen to the cellars. I was coming here to see if there was any truth to it."

Harlan processed this information. "I see." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me very carefully. This is what we will do…"