“I don’t need a lot of fancy jewelry, Kit.”
“Perhaps, but I want to get it for you. And since you are madly in love with me, you will no doubt indulge me in my pleasures.”
She glared at him in the mirror, but he wasn’t paying her displeasure any mind. His attention centered on destroying Sissy’s elegant coiffure. When the last critical pin fell prey to his depredations, Deborah’s hair fell in profusion around her shoulders. He picked up a handful, turning and admiring the burnished gold locks. She could feel every hair he touched. He ran his fingers through them and bent closer to bury his face in the wavy profusion. “Ummm, better than a flower garden.” He lifted his face to watch hers in the glass and then reached around to slowly untie the ribbon of her chemise. Deborah held her breath as he finally loosened it enough to be able to push the fine lawn off her shoulders. The material dallied on her nipples before sliding to her waist.
“Yes,” he breathed as he reached around to cradle her milk-laden breasts. His thumbs caressed the tight berries crowning them. Shock waves of need from that tiny caress reverberated all the way down to Deborah’s belly and exploded.
The force catapulted her to her feet, the shift sliding to the floor around her stockinged ankles. She turned, “Sir, I simply cannot countenance this advantage I have of you.” She reached for his neck cloth, but he scooped her of her feet and headed for the turned-down bed.
“Mistress mine, this service is too willingly given for you to disregard it. Your most eager servant insists.” With that, he playfully dumped her on the bed. As he untied his cravat, she reached over to pull the covers over herself.
“No, no, mustn’t do that. I’m performing all services, no matter how mundane or how intimate for you this evening.” He grabbed the comforter and pulled it aside. Propping his hip on the edge of the bed, he unbuttoned his shirt.
“Beast.” The smile belied her word.
His eyebrow lifted, and he nodded slightly, “True, but I’m your beast.”
She giggled, but when his breeches dropped to the floor, she realized that this was not a matter for laughter. The beast was magnificent.
He slipped onto bed beside her. “Cold?” She shook her head. “Good. I want to see every shiver of pleasure tonight.”
**
He should be sated and sleepy. Kit folded his arms under his head as he stared at the dark void of the ceiling. The questions kept reverberating through his head: how, when, where, and most important, who. It didn’t take the Admiralty Office to figure out that the gutter scum who attacked them weren’t the driving force. He could keep cutting off the hydra’s heads, but they could be replaced. He had to cauterize the monster to finish things. He’d even put the Barlow knife on the table next to him. It was more maneuverable than his sword. What else could he do? The monster’s image grew on the ceiling as he sought to connect the diverse pieces of their lives that might point to the answer. People and events flitted through his mind and the hydra’s head slowly began to coalesce…just before he fell asleep.
**
It was a lovely dream. He was chasing a ball his man had thrown. His lady laughed, and the small thing made baby noises. The small thing was a new element in their lives. It had to be cared for, just like his people, that he knew was a fact, but, by the bones, it could make a racket.
The dream faded, and that annoyed him. From his pillow bed under the window, he opened one eye. His people slept in the big bed. His people had been playing there earlier. He closed his eye. He’d tried to play with them over there, but they’d put him down and told him “no.” They played with him other times, so he was happy. The small thing didn’t really play. Maybe it would one day. Until then… A noise came from the window. Was that what woke him up?
He opened his both eyes and looked around. Everything was as it should be. He started to close them again. The window just above him opened quietly. Other than looking up, he didn’t move. A strange boot came through the curtain. His instincts told him this was not as it should be. His ears went up, along with his hackles. Another boot came in, and the feet stepped on him.
“Yrrrooow! Ruff! Ruff! Grrrrr!” The grrs continued even as he bit the intruder’s leg and held on.
“Ahh! Git offa me ya bloody cur!” The bad man tried to keep his voice down but Scamp’s man heard him and bolted out of bed. He would know what to do.
**
Deborah, jolted out of a deliciously sound slumber by barking and cursing, couldn’t conceive of what was going on in the dark. Kit jumped out of bed. Something scraped on the table next to him. The Barlow knife, she realized.
Trouble.
She rolled out of bed in the other direction. Timothy. She had to protect Timothy. The room was pitch black; she found the cradle by touch. Scooping him up made him whimper.
Grunts and growls and thumps and curses and scuffles came from across the room.
Blindly she scanned the chamber searching for a weapon. Fireplace poker, of course. Edging along the wall, she kept Timothy away from the fighting. No hint of how the fighting progressed came through the darkness.
Her bare foot touched the cold bricks of the hearth, and she reached for the poker.
Some light would be helpful, but…help. That’s it, help. Mr. Thomson slept next door. She drew a breath, “Help! Murder! Help!”
Now some light. She pushed the poker into the banked fire. The coals glowed and she threw in some small pieces of wood. They caught immediately, throwing enough light into the room to see Kit grappling with an intruder.
A moment later, Mr. Thomson burst in brandishing a wicked-looking knife. Coming up behind the malefactor, the sergeant grabbed his wrists. Between the two ex-soldiers, the man was disarmed, tossed to the floor, and bound with the ties from Kit’s dressing gown.
Deborah breathed a sigh of relief during the operation and then realized that she, like Kit, was naked. She found her dressing gown before Mr. Thomson had a chance to turn around.
Kit hauled the man to his feet. He must be freezing, and Missy would arrive in a moment. Deborah handed his breeches to him with a censorious, but still appreciative glance.
He was decent, barely, when Missy burst in. “Wha’s goin’…ohhh!” She had a candle, so they were able to see the intruder clearly for the first time.
Deborah studied the wiry, ferret-faced man. “He looks, I don’t know, familiar.”
Mr. Thomson’s eyes narrowed. “Blimey, ‘e’s one of t’blokes tha’ jumped us. Weren’t ye me fine cove?”
The intruder just glared at Mr. Thomson. Kit shook him. “Answer the gentleman.”
“Bugger ye.”
Kit rammed the man against the wall so that his head bounced off it. “Answer the nice gentleman.”
“Yeh.”
“That’s better. It’s a start.”
The door burst open again. The innkeeper, in his nightshirt and night cap, held a candle aloft. “What in seven hells is amiss. I run a decent establishment here!”
Scamp growled at the new intruder, and Deborah called him over. There were entirely too many people here. “Mr. Thomson, would you be so kind as to hold this individual securely so that the rest of us might get dressed?”
“Aye, my’lady.”
“Very good,” Kit agreed. “We’ll meet you down in the tap room in a few minutes.” He nodded to the innkeeper and shuffled everyone out of the chamber.
Deborah gave Timothy to Missy, “Take care of him.” When Missy started to object, Deborah continued, “I’ll let you know what’s going on later.”
In the taproom, Kit spelled Mr. Thomson with the prisoner. When they were all dressed and gathered around the man, Kit addressed the captive. “By the by, what is your name?”
The sullen man hesitated, then, probably remembering his encounter with the wall, answered. “’Arris, ‘Arry ‘Arris.”
“Well, ‘Arry ‘Arris, meeting you twice in one day under such, shall we say, enervating circumstances, is very interesting. One, I
might condone, but twice, that makes me a little--what?--annoyed, angry, suspicious?”
Harris sat, hunched on the bench, and glared.
“Speak up, man,” the innkeeper demanded.
“’N say wot? Didn’t ask no question.”
Mr. Thomson slapped him across the back of his head. “No way to talk ta yer betters, you gutter sweeping.” He walked around, eyeing Harris. “M’lord, “Arris, ‘ere ‘as ‘imself th’ better part of a infantry uniform on, ‘e ‘as.”
“Hum, a deserter, aren’t you, Harry?” Kit demanded. Harris nodded, almost unwillingly.
The word “deserter” reminded Deborah of something. “There were some deserters hanging around my father’s farm while we were there.”
“’Arris,” Mr. Thomson demanded in his best sergeant’s voice, “that was you, t’weren’t it?”
“Damn yer eyes, aye.”
“And the shot at the carriage?” Kit continued.
“Aye.”
“Blimey,” the innkeeper muttered.
“And told Henry Marshall where I was going?”
“No! Ah don’;t know wha’ yer talking ‘bout.”
Mr. Thomson drew his hand back.
“No, Ah tells ye. ‘Twere Cook. ‘E’s been braggin’ as t’ow ‘e got a few quid offa some flash cove.”
“Cook, eh. That’s the name Henry gave us.”
“Aye, ‘e’s t’one wi’is brains bashed in.”
Kit rubbed at his face. “Well, that’s one piece of the puzzle accounted for.” He stepped back and leaned against a table. He pursed his lips as he studied Harris. “Now, as far as I know, I’ve never laid eyes on you, Harris. Have you, Mr. Thomson?”
Thomson rubbed his chin, “Can’t say as Ah ‘ave, m’lord.”
“I didn’t think so. That means it’s not something personal against me. So, why are you doing this now? Henry Marshall is out of the picture.”
Harris examined the floor. After a moment, Mr. Thomson took one step forward and hit him in the jaw, sending him sprawling off the bench.
Deborah squealed “Oh!” and then subsided. She realized, as soon as the word was out of her mouth, that she couldn’t interfere in this battle.
Harris struggled back to his seat, not a small feat with your hands bound behind your back and your mouth bleeding.
“This time ‘is lordship did ask ye a question. Answer ‘im!”
Instead of answering, Harris leaned over and wiped his mouth on his shoulder. Then he spat a mouthful of blood near Thomson’s feet.
Justifiably enraged, Mr. Thomson lunged at him. Kit held him back with an arm braced across Thomson’s chest. “Harris, I require a straight and complete answer on the instant, else-wise I shall escort my wife out of here and let Sgt. Thomson have his way with you.”
At the mention of that particular military rank and all it implied, Harris’s eyes opened wide. He looked quickly between Kit and Mr. Thomson and decided to save his skin, at least for the moment. “This gentry mort, she says Ah’m t’kill ‘er ladyship or elsewise she’ll turn me in. Said she’d gimme £50 iffin’ Ah does it.”
Deborah sat back in her chair with her mouth open. “A lady wants me dead? But that’s absurd. Who, who? I haven’t hurt any…” Her voice trailed off.
“Precisely, my dear. When I was single and only a younger son, she was content with a liaison. Now that she’s single, and I have the title, she’d like a more, shall we say formal arrangement? Which brings up another point. Harris, did you murder Sir Oliver Grant?”
“No! Ah never stiffed no gentry cove. An’ nobody cans says Ah did. Ye bleeding fancy cain’t stick tha’un on me. No how, no way.”
Kit interrupted his denial, “I believe you.”
“Ye does?”
“When did you desert?”
“Jus’ after Cornwallis surrendered. We was on patrol near Richmond an’ jus’ kept goin’.”
Kit turned to Mr. Thomson. “Lady Claudia found herself a widow before we left Camden. At least you don’t have that hanging,” he emphasized the word, and Harris winced, “over your head.”
Kit put his foot on the bench and braced his hip against the adjoining table. “Now that we know what happened, what do we do?”
Deborah’s brain returned to functioning after its recent pummeling. “Kit, we have to prove this. The word of a deserter isn’t going to convince anybody. I’m not entirely sure it’s convinced me.”
“She’s got ‘erself a point, she does, sir. The pieces might all fit for us, but whiles we won’t be t’ones doin’ sumthin’ about it, we’ll need more ‘an t’ word of a gallows fruit like ‘im.”
“True enough, true enough.” Kit drummed his fingers on the table. “Innkeeper, would you be willing to assist us in this?”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“Your testimony may be required in court.”
“Aye, so be it. Ah runs a decent establishment and my good name’s been sullied. Ah’ll help.”
“Harris, I could easily see that you were hung on any of several counts. However, in return for you assistance and your immediate surrender to military authorities,” Harris yelped, “I will personally see that your punishment is relatively light.”
Harris swallowed hard and nodded.
Kit turned to the innkeeper. “Did any of your people witness this night’s events?”
The man shook his head. “Good, let’s keep it that way. I may need you as a witness at a moment’s notice. If I’m right, Lady Claudia will confirm everything we already know.”
Puzzled faces looked at him. “Harris, here, is going to go back to Lady Claudia to report his success and collect his reward. On his way out of her house, he will be escorted back to barracks. We, on the other hand, will be known to be in seclusion. Missy and Mr. Thomson and you, Innkeeper, will tell only this to anyone who asks. I feel certain that Lady Claudia will be around very soon to offer her very personal condolences to me. When she does, it will verify Harris’s statement because no one will know why we are in seclusion. Think we can do it?” He addressed the question to the group. “How about Missy?”
“Oh, aye, m’lord.”
Deborah seconded Mr. Thomson. “I’m sure she can.”
“Good, than Mr. Thomson, I want you to get over to General Vaughan’s house. Wake him up if you have to, tell him the plans, and get an escort for Harris, here.”
Mr. Thomson left on his errand, and the innkeeper fairly bounced with excitement. “Ah’m proud to be of assistance, m’ lord. Anything else I can do?”
“No my good man, only don’t say too much when you are asked. And I suspect you will be asked.” He leaned back against the table and yawned. “Oh, and would you send up a nice bone for the small hero?” He dismissed the man with a nod.
“Well,” Deborah sniffed as she stood, “I’m going up to the quiet of my room and explain to a soon-to-be-very-excited Missy what her part will be. I’ll send her out tomorrow on an errand with a long face and much mystery. That will set the cat among the canaries.” She looked down at her hands for a moment. “Then it will be over.”
Kit smiled and nodded.
**
The next day Missy went on a series of mundane errands and spread the news of the family’s seclusion, if not the reason, to every ear that would listen.
Next morning, a scruffy sailor-type fellow approached the innkeeper. “Oy, matey, ‘ears as der new Hearl of Westridge be ‘ere. Ah comes from dere and methinks to pay me respects.” The innkeeper delivered his lines perfectly and, when the fellow left, rushed up to deliver his news with great relish.
**
Later that afternoon, the innkeeper sent word up that Lady Claudia arrived. Deborah quickly retired to the bedroom. Mr. Thomson very properly announced the lady. Kit felt a surge of pride in his soldier-cum-valet. His attention quickly focused on the problem, or rather lady, at hand. He rose and bowed solemnly as Lady Claudia swept into the room. Nodding dismissal of Mr. Thomson, and knowing that at lea
st two and possibly four pairs of ears were glued to the doors, he greeted his former mistress. “Good day to you, Lady Claudia. It is kind of you to call.”
“Oh Kit! I’m sure that I just had to come when I heard.”
“How kind of you.”
“Such a terrible thing, to be attacked in your own beds!”
Kit lowered his eyelids so she wouldn’t see the triumph in them. This was almost too easy. He nodded to acknowledge her sympathy.
“Your child, I’m sure I don’t remember his name…”
“Timothy,” Kit grated.
“Yes, Timothy, he’s unharmed!”
“Yes.”
“That’s wonderful. Your heir must be protected at all costs. And your dear wife—did she suffer?”
“No.”
“I’m sure that’s a relief to you.” Kit nodded. “When are the services scheduled?”
Arrogant witch, Kit thought. “Day after tomorrow.” Services were scheduled, just not the ones she assumed.
Lady Claudia rose and glided to his side. Kit rose automatically. “I’m sure I’ll be there. You know I’m always there for you, no matter what.” She grasped his face and kissed him on the lips, not without a hint of passion.
“Thank you, Lady Claudia.” He rang the small bell on the side table.
“So formal, Kit, we’re far beyond that.”
Kit withdrew from her hands and bowed. “At the moment, that’s how it must be. Thank you for coming,”
“Of course, I’m always there for you, Kit.”
Mr. Thomson opened the door and bowed. “M’lady.”
She swept out with a glance that was probably meant to be coquettish. Kit wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as soon as the door closed.
The bed chamber door opened almost immediately. Deborah slipped out as quietly as possible, given her elation. “Oh my, she is a brazen little hussy, isn’t she?”
“Indeed she is. Did Missy hear, too?”
“She certainly did. I practically had to pinch her to give me some room at the door to hear.”
“Good.” Deborah glared at him. “Not about the pinch!” She snickered and he continued, “I suspect…” A knock sounded at the door. “Right on time.”