If He's Wild (8 page)

Aldus watched Iago leave and then looked at Hartley. “I will devise some emergency to explain your sudden disappearance as well. Mayhap Gifford should go with you so that what I say carries some weight and will not have people wondering why you and Alethea disappeared at the same time. I will also offer to take Claudette home and then meet you at the Vaughns as soon as possible.” He looked at Alethea. “I think the woman begins to believe herself untouchable. This is her work, is it not?”

“I have no proof of that, but, yes, I think it is,” replied Hartley. “We can talk about it later. Alethea needs to get home, and a doctor needs to be summoned.”

“No doctor,” Alethea protested. “Kate can tend to me.”

Aldus just grinned and left. Gifford fell into step beside Hartley as he started to make his way through the gardens to the gate where he was to meet Iago. The guilt Hartley suffered for what had happened to Alethea was a heavy weight upon his heart. She had been drawn into this trouble because she had wanted to save his life. She stayed because she wished to help him find his sister’s children. Yet because he could not control his growing desire for her, even in the way he looked at her, she was now hurt and in danger.

“It is not your fault, Hartley,” Alethea said quietly.

“And whose fault is it? Is it not because of me that you are here at all?”

“No one but the five of us knows that. As far as the world and its mother is concerned, I am but visiting my uncle. I doubt anyone thinks I know anything about spies and intrigue and all of that. I am only a simple country widow. If Claudette had this done to me, it was the act of a vain, spiteful woman. How she got the idea that I was a threat to the success of her seduction of you, I do not know.”

“Oh, I have an idea or two about that,” said Gifford, but he quickly pressed his lips together when Hartley glared at him.

Alethea laughed and immediately regretted it. Her laugh turned into a groan as pain tore through her body. She was not sure which hurt the worst, her side or her head, but she was certain she would be doing her best not to laugh for a while. It was evident that Hartley blamed himself for what had happened to her, but the pain clouding her thoughts made it difficult for her to form any reasonable argument against that. It, too, would have to wait until later.

The move into the carriage was an agony she hoped to never have to endure again. Alethea knew Hartley and Iago were doing their best to move her gently, but the pain became a continuous ripple beneath her skin. She had only a moment to recover after she was settled on the carriage seat with her head in Hartley’s lap, and then the carriage began to move. Alethea gave up her fight to remain conscious.

“She has swooned,” said Hartley.

“Best thing for her,” said Iago. “I do not think any ribs are broken, for she is breathing well, but they are certainly badly bruised. Until her ribs are wrapped and the pain from the blows to her head eases, she will have to lie still.” He watched as Hartley did his best to keep her steady in his hold as the carriage rolled along. “I am not a violent man, but I dearly wish I could get my hands on the bastard who did this to her. I think I could kill him and never lose a night’s sleep over it.”

“Wait to kill him until we get the name of the one who ordered him to do this,” said Hartley.

“We know who did this.”

“We need a name. Never forget that Claudette has some power and a lot of allies with power. As you yourself noted, she has been very selective in her lovers, and, if only to protect themselves, those men could be called upon to help her against such an allegation.”

“Fools. The whole lot of them. And the ones who gave her the information she needed to kill those men of yours are as guilty of murder as she is.”

Hartley could only agree. Although Claudette had not done the actually killing of anyone, as far as he knew, she was a killer. She tossed people’s lives aside as if they were worth nothing, only her needs and wants of any concern to her. The men who had allowed passion to blind them to what she was and let slip some of the country’s secrets were almost as guilty as she was. They should have known better, should have thought of the dire consequences of even one weak moment.

Before he could say anything, the carriage stopped before the Vaughns’ home. “We need to send someone for a doctor,” Hartley said as he helped get a still-unconscious Alethea out of the carriage.

“No need,” said Iago. “Kate will see to her.”

“Kate is no doctor.”

“She may be common born, uneducated in the finer schools, and all of that, but she can fix near any injury and cure most illnesses. If she cannot, she is the first to call for a surgeon. I do not believe Alethea’s injuries require a surgeon, however. And, if Kate sees to her, the less chance there is of any of this becoming fodder for the gossips.”

Hartley’s chance to argue that opinion was stolen away the moment Iago’s butler opened the door for them. Chaos ensued as Alfred and Kate came running at his call of alarm. Although he was allowed to carry Alethea to her room, Hartley was quickly pushed aside by a worried, and thoroughly outraged, Kate. He finally allowed Iago to lead him down to the drawing room, where Gifford was already comfortably settled with wine and food.

“Does Kate know she is a servant?” Hartley asked quietly as he helped himself to some wine and food, still stinging a little from being so summarily dismissed by a maid.

Iago laughed as he sprawled in a chair, but the heavy mood that had dogged him since he had found Alethea missing quickly returned. “She knows, but she has been with Alethea since they were both children. Kate is only a few years older. Five, mayhap six. Kate is one of those retainers who become almost part of the family.”

Hartley slowly nodded, thinking of the kindly Mrs. Huxley, his housekeeper in his London home. “If Kate decides a doctor is needed, I know a good one. Skilled and, most important, discrete.”

“Thank you. The Vaughns have one like that as well. A kinsman whose gift is in healing. Unlike some others who have that gift, he can control it.”

“Why would anyone want to control the gift of healing?”

“It drains the life out of the healer if he uses it too much or on the very sick, trying to cure them in one sitting. Archimedes has learned how to be careful, how to use his gift little by little, so that he is never exhausted by its demands.”

“Archimedes?” Gifford shook his head. “Your family has a gift for odd names as well as for other things.”

“True. I have never actually understood why that is. Some ancestor began it, and we all dutifully follow tradition.”

They talked idly about useless subjects, fighting to keep their minds off what was happening with Alethea, until Aldus arrived. Hartley had to fight the urge to jump on the man and shake him for information as Aldus helped himself to some food and drink. He knew a lot of his tense agitation was due to concern for Alethea, but he realized that he no longer appreciated how slowly the business of intrigue was conducted. Gathering information on traitors or the enemy was a slow, tedious business occasionally broken with periods of extreme danger.

“Did Claudette say anything when you told her I had been called away?” he asked the moment Aldus had settled himself comfortably beside Gifford.

“Nothing precise, of course,” Aldus replied. “She did act surprised when I told her you had left on an emergency. I also noticed that she looked around the ballroom most carefully. It did not please her to see no sign of the Vaughns. I believe she realized you had all left at the same time and, perhaps, guessed that that was your emergency.”

“Did she expect Alethea to come staggering back into the ballroom?” asked Iago. “Surely she must have realized that someone would take Alethea home once she was found. Unless she had hope that someone would find a body.”

“This was just a warning,” said Hartley. “The man that accosted Alethea said so himself. Claudette was probably displeased that her act of anger had actually worked to her disadvantage. Both Iago and I were now gone.”

“Me?” Iago did not even try to hide his surprise. “What on earth would the woman want with me? I have no ties to the government.”

“I believe you do have, through a few cousins,” replied Hartley and noticed how Aldus nodded. “You are also now tied to us, and to a woman Claudette is seeing as a rival or, at the very least, an impediment to her plans.”

“Ah, of course. It astounds me that one vain, coldly selfish woman could be so much trouble and so dangerous. There has to be a way to stop her.”

“We are close, very close. Unfortunately, the ones who know enough about her to get her hanged soon end up dead. Claudette has also gathered together a small cadre of very lethal men. I believe she has her escape route all carefully planned out, too. It will not be easy to bring her down, and it will definitely be a very dangerous job.”

“It has already proven to be so. Do not forget Rogers and Peterson,” said Gifford.

“Never.” Hartley thought of his sister’s children as well, and the rage he constantly battled to control shifted inside of him, eager to get out and find some target. “We have long suspected the woman and have spent many hours gathering up all the information we can.” He nodded toward Iago. “And now we have you and Alethea.”

“But you said you could not openly use what we have told you,” Iago said.

“No, but it points us in the right direction and that is no small thing. We will get this bitch, and she will hang. We just need the right proof to make even her lovers back away, more afraid of being touched by the blood on her than for their good names.”

“Why have you not gone after some of the men she has slept with? Why not try to find a weak point there? I doubt any of them actually sat there and told her exactly what she sought, handed her secret papers or the like. Yet, although they fear being tainted by her crimes now, if you can get them to believe it, just one of them,
and
swore to keep whatever slip they made a complete secret, they could be of some help.”

Hartley sighed and slowly nodded. “I had wished to avoid confronting any of them simply because of the utter aggravation of such a process, but I think the time for catering to their position in society or the government must end. Good people are dying, and our secrets are being sent to our enemies, and all by a woman society allows into their homes. God alone knows what she has found in those homes, or pilfered to send to her compatriots. Even if we cannot get enough proof to hang her, I think it is past time we start to close all those doors and make her games impossible to play.”

“Try to disarm her in a way,” murmured Gifford.

“Exactly,” agreed Hartley. “Disarm and break down the shields she hides behind, one by one.”

“It should be done slowly,” said Iago, and he smiled when all three men looked at him. “Slowly done it will take her a little while to notice, then it will begin to make her uneasy, and then it will be too late for her to do anything about it. A sudden rush to cut her off will make people listen if she cries foul. A slow picking away at her connections to society, done subtly and secretively, will leave people to believe that she has done the injury to herself, and her claims of slander, or whatever else she may try, will not be heeded by enough people to matter.”

“Are you certain you do not work for the government?” Aldus asked after a moment of heavy silence from the ones experienced in intrigue.

Iago chuckled. “No, I do not, but I have always been fascinated by strategy. Bold and daring will gain honor and have songs sung about you. Sleek, quiet, and slow will gain you little recognition but most often works. It will, however, make her increasingly dangerous.”

“We will be ready for that,” Hartley said with a confidence he did not wholeheartedly feel. Claudette had been fooling them for a long time, playing them all for fools, and he could not discount her skills at that game too easily.

“M’lord,” Kate called as she entered the room, pausing for a brief curtsey to the men. “I thought you might be interested in Lady Alethea.”

“Of course,” replied Iago. “You can speak freely, Kate. How is my niece?”

“Naught was broken. She will be sore and bruised for a while, though, and I be thinking that does not surprise any of you. Her ribs were wrapped, but they are only bruised. I have put cool cloths on her poor battered face, so I be hoping the swelling will not be too bad. My salve will be helping, too. But she is not to be getting out of that bed for at least three days, and after that she needs to be very careful.”

“I will be certain to help you keep her to that regimen,” said Iago. “Thank you, Kate.”

“You want to thank me, m’lord, you find the bastard what did that to my missus, and you cut his bloody hands off, then hang him up by his feet until he bleeds out like the beastie he is. Then you find that vicious whore—”

Iago had her by the arm and was ushering her out of the room before she could finish that sentence. “Quite. I will keep your wishes in mind, Kate. Why not go to the kitchens and see what sort of tasty broths and healthy drinks you can plan for Alethea’s recuperation?”

“Aye, I will, but you best not let the fact that that viperous bitch is a woman stop you from treating her as she deserves.”

After shutting the door behind Kate, Iago looked at the other men in the room and shrugged. “Kate loves Alethea, and God help anyone who hurts her.”

“I rather liked the cutting the hands off and hanging him up like a beastie,” murmured Gifford and then laughed along with the other men.

Hartley found that he was able to laugh with them. Alethea was going to be all right this time. And now they had a firmer plan in mind to insure that there would not be a next time.

“It is too soon for you to be out of bed.”

Alethea blinked at Hartley as he strode into her drawing room. He had become a regular visitor to the house over the last week, while she had been healing from the beating. The way he went straight to the drinks table and helped himself to some of Iago’s fine brandy told her that he had also begun to feel right at home. Since no one had announced his arrival or even asked if she was
at home
to him, it was evident that the servants also saw him as almost family, him and his two companions in intrigue.

That made her both happy and uneasy. She was pleased that he had fallen into such an easy, comfortable companionship with her and Iago, but she did not want him to be too easy with her. Alethea did not want Hartley thinking of her as family.

“Hello,” she said. “How pleasant to see you, too.”

Hartley rolled his eyes and sat down beside her, taking a deep drink of the brandy Iago kept on hand and savoring the slight burn as it went down his throat. During his many visits with Alethea as she had been recovering from the attack, he had discovered that she could be decidedly pert, her humor dry but rarely sharp or cruel. Too many women he had known had thought unkind remarks about others constituted humor or wit. Hartley doubted Alethea often, if ever, said anything truly unkind or cruel about anyone. Nor did she gossip much. He found that yet another thing he appreciated about her. Too few people within society knew the important difference between gossip and actual news or information. In the work he did for the government, he had to listen closely to all gossip, rumor, and salacious whisper, but he had never liked it.

He was beginning to think it was time, far past time, that he took an interest in a woman beyond what she could give him in the bedroom. He needed an heir, and he could not get one without a wife. The first time the word
marriage
had tiptoed through his brain he had shuddered in horror and hastily pushed it aside, even made the futile attempt to avoid Alethea as if it was her fault he had had such a chilling thought.

The thought would not stay away, however. For a man in his position, marriage was a necessary step to take. Alethea was the first woman he had ever thought of in that way, the only one he could actually see himself married to. She would give him passion, loyalty, and, most of all, companionship. He felt comfortable with her, when he was not lusting after her. Such talk would have to wait for a while longer. It was too soon. If nothing else, he needed to do some wooing of her first. With visions, murderous rogues, traitors, and a coldly evil woman to deal with, there had not been much time left to do any wooing.

“I beg your pardon for the abrupt arrival,” he said as he draped his arm over her shoulders, liking the way she accepted the light embrace without any hint of coyness, even shifting closer to him. “It has been a long, tiresome day. But—you are looking much better.”

The bruises that had marred her pretty face had faded to the point where a little powder could hide them. Each time he had looked upon her injuries, first the livid swelling and then the equally livid bruises left behind after the swelling eased, he had ached to hunt down her attacker and beat him into the ground. Every soft gasp or moan of pain that had passed her lips had plucked at the rage that burned inside him. He had even admitted to himself that, like Iago, if the beating he hoped to deliver killed the man, he would not lose a moment’s sleep over it.

Now Alethea moved with no sign of pain from her badly bruised ribs and spoke easily, the stiffness in her jaw gone. He had balked at leaving her in Kate’s care, at not summoning a doctor, but it was clear to see that the Vaughns’ trust in the maid’s healing skills was fully justified. Despite her improvement, despite how the evidence of what had been done to her was fading from view, his rage lingered. He suspected it would do so until he had made someone pay for her pain.

“Thank you, kind sir.”

Alethea smiled at him, knowing he was sadly lagging in charming flatteries when he spoke to her. But she took that as a good sign. He was not playing his seductive games, using well-practiced moves, touches, or words. With her, Hartley was just Hartley. She was not fool enough to think it meant he had developed any deeper feelings for her, but it did mean that he did not see her as he had seen all of the other women in his life. That could only be a good thing.

“My pleasure.” He lightly kissed her cheek, fighting back the need to kiss a lot more than that soft, decorous spot. “I have officially been given permission to cease chasing after Claudette. Willsett believed us when we told him that there would be no seducing secrets out of a woman like Claudette, but it took a little longer for him to then convince his superiors that we knew what we were talking about. Once Willsett agreed, however, I began to step away from the woman, slowly ending the dance we had been involved in.”

No news could have been more welcome to Alethea than that. As she had healed, confined to bed and the house, she had suffered too many dreams of him holding Claudette, kissing her, sharing passionate moments with her. She had begun to think that not knowing exactly what was happening between him and Claudette was as bad, if not worse, as knowing and watching it all go on right in front of her eyes.

“And how has she taken your withdrawal of attention?” she asked.

“The withdrawal is not complete yet, and she already shows signs of not taking it well. When I consider what she had done to you just because she thought she saw me look at you with interest, I begin to wonder if it might be best if you returned to Coulthurst.” He had to struggle just to voice the suggestion, as he did not want her to leave, something he knew he ought to examine very closely.

“No.” She met his scowl with a smile. “I stepped into this business because of my vision, and I mean to stay until it is done.
And,
” she added hastily when he opened his mouth to start what she was sure would be an argument, “I am still needed. We have yet to discover what happened to your niece and nephew. Has there been any news of them?”

“’Tis too soon.” He set his drink down on the table in front of them and took her hands in his. “There is a lot of danger circling round you now, Alethea. I would have you clear of it.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. We know the danger is there and can watch for it. And how can we be sure the danger will not follow me to Coulthurst? I am now marked, as you have said, so I cannot see that leaving London would change that.”

“No, probably not.” He kissed her on the forehead and then rested his cheek against her hair, praying he was not letting his need to have her close at hand force him to agree with her.

Alethea’s heart raced as he held her close. She sighed her pleasure out loud as she savored the feel of his strong arms around her. Such embraces as well as light caresses and sweet, too-innocent kisses had grown more frequent during her convalescence. It made her hope even as it frustrated the desire he had awakened in her.

Daringly, she moved her hand over his broad chest up to his neck. The touch of a thin gold chain beneath her fingers when she reached the edge of his neckcloth caught her attention. Just as she opened her mouth to ask what it was, an all-too-familiar feeling swept over her. Alethea had only enough time to clutch at Hartley’s arms before she sank into the swirling montage of images and impressions.

Hartley tightened his hold on Alethea when her whole body spasmed in his arms. One look at her face, into her wide, storm-cloud eyes, and he knew she was having a vision. He prayed it was not another one foretelling of danger or, worse, the death of one of his friends. He held her close, murmuring soothing nonsense and stroking her back as he waited for her to come to her senses enough to realize he was there at her side.

Searching his heart, he discovered a complete lack of unease or fear. All he found within himself was concern for Alethea, worry that she was still too weak from her injuries to endure a fearsome vision. The moment she came back from wherever her vision took her, she pulled free of his hold, grabbed her sketchbook, and began to rapidly draw what she had seen. He hurried to the door, called for the butler, and ordered tea. He was back in his seat and ready to hold her again when she stumbled back into his arms, her frantic drawing done. A
gift
should not be so hard on the one it was given to, he thought as he held her trembling body close while Alfred rushed in and set the tray with tea and light cakes on the table in front of them.

“Just ready the tea, Alfred,” he said. “I will make certain she drinks it and eats something.”

Alethea took several deep, slow breaths to still the excitement bubbling inside her as she reluctantly eased away from Hartley. She did not wish to fill Hartley with a hope that could easily remain unfulfilled, but she knew she had to tell him everything. Although she was certain she had just seen what
had
happened, it had done so only recently; it had not been a vision of the now or of the future. Matters could have taken a turn for the worse since what she had seen had happened. France moved from calm to boiling to murderous and back again with alarming regularity.

“Was it a bad one?” Hartley asked as he handed her the heavily sweetened tea.

She took a bracing sip of the tea before trying to answer him. Selfish though it was, she wanted to enjoy the gentle way he rubbed her back, the concern he revealed for her well-being. Once she told him about her vision and he looked at her drawings, his mind and heart would be taken up with the plight of his sister’s children. Then a pang of guilt pushed aside all thought for herself. Hartley needed to hear about his niece and nephew more than she needed to be held and soothed.

“Hard, fierce, but not bad,” she replied and pointed to her book. “It was a vision of something that occurred recently, not of the now or the will be. I think it may help you find the children.”

She was not surprised when he snatched up her sketchbook like a starving man would a crust of bread tossed aside by a rich man. She knew the two children were all he had left of his family save for a few very distant cousins. For all that a family could be a torment at times, one missed it when it was gone. She knew herself fortunate to have such a large, caring collection of relatives, for it meant she was never really alone. Hartley was completely alone.

“What did you see?” he asked as he studied the pictures she had drawn on the paper.

“A farm, a few cows, and an old horse,” she replied. “Probably a poor farm. I think they are working there.” She frowned. “I think the older couple I saw took them in years ago, mayhap even shortly after they fled the beach. They may not have had to struggle too much to survive, at least not for too long.”

“Yet you still drew her as a lad.”

Alethea stared at the picture she had drawn of Germaine. “So I have. Then that is what she must be. There may be a good reason for that. She and Bayard are, after all, two aristocratic, English children in France.”

“Any sense of where or when?”

Alethea slumped in her seat, resting her head against the back of the settee. She closed her eyes and tried to drag up any and all memory of her vision. Hartley lightly caressed her clenched hands where they lay in her lap, and it calmed her enough that the memories came more easily.

“South,” she murmured. “Yes, the south of France. Two days’ ride in from the beach.” She frowned as she strained to grasp an elusive thread of information.

“There are a lot of beaches in the south of France.”

“The beach where her family was murdered, where they had gone to be saved. Two days’ ride east, and a little north. Moyne.”

“There is no Moyne in that area. I confess I do not know every village and town in France, but that one just does not sound familiar.”

Alethea opened her eyes to look at him. “I think it is a name, not a place exactly. The name of the farm, the creek running nearby, the family, even the largest landholder. Moyne. Just saying the word feels right. Yes, Moyne. A name. It might not be the full name, but it has something to do with where they are and who they are with.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I may recall something later, but that is all I have for now.”

“It is a lot. A place, a name, a farm with a few cows and an old, swaybacked horse. Even better, I can get this news to France quickly, as a few men are slipping over there tonight.”

“I pray you can find them, Hartley. They need to come home. I think Germaine has tried to get them out of France a few times, and the failure weighs heavy on her.”

Hartley took her in his arms and kissed her. Alethea sank into the kiss, savoring the taste of him and the heat he stirred within her. She was not surprised when he ended the embrace too soon, however. She could sense the tense excitement in him, the hope that he struggled to keep under control.

“I need to get this information to those men,” he said as he forced himself to release her and not give in to the need clawing at his insides. “May I take the picture? Your drawing of the farmhouse may help them.”

“Of course. Hartley? What is that chain that is sticking out of your neckcloth? I think that is what brought on the vision.”

Hartley knew he was blushing a little, for his cheeks tingled with the heat of it as he quickly shoved the chain beneath his neckcloth. “Germaine’s locket. I did not think, have only just begun to wear it in the hope that it would give me some luck in the search for her and Bayard. I am sorry. I could have brought on that horrific vision you had before when you touched it.”

“No. Whatever held that vision in that locket has passed. It must be because it is Germaine’s that I had this vision, however. There is obviously still some faint connection to her through it.” She leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Godspeed, Hartley.” She watched him hurry out of the room and sent up a prayer that this time her vision would lead his men to the children and bring them home where they belonged.

Hartley paced the morning room in Aldus’s small townhouse as he waited for his friends to join him. Gifford often stayed at Aldus’s home to escape his mother and sisters. For once Hartley’s luck had been good, and Gifford was there as well.