Danger Wears White (28 page)

“If you will excuse me for a moment, I’ll ensure the horses are attended to. This discussion is obviously going to take more time than we imagined,” Tony said, getting to his feet and groping for the first reasonable excuse he could think of. A quick exchange assured him Julius would care for Imogen in the short time he meant to be away. He would find this out for her, even if he lost her in the process.

* * * *

Imogen sat perfectly still, as she had so often in her childhood. Facing this woman had proved so hard, even though she’d had Tony with her through the ordeal. If she sat like this, people sometimes forgot she was there, or took no notice of her. If she was lucky, that would happen now.

No such luck.

Her mother shot a venomous glare at her. “What have you been telling them?”

“Only what I know, which is precious little,” she said bitterly. “That you deceived me all my life. That you’ve been living in my house under false pretenses. I am not your get, and I am not the daughter of the Earl of Hollinhead. No wonder the man I thought of as my father showed little interest in me, save ensuring I was safe.”

“He was told to keep away,” she said bitterly. “Not to draw attention to you.”

“Yes,” said Julius. “That makes sense. So you had little time to make an heir for your husband.”

Mrs. Thane took the documents Julius handed her, retook her seat, and leafed through the papers.

She clicked her tongue, a sound Imogen had familiarized herself with years ago. She still hated that little sound of exasperation.

“Why should I concern myself with providing an heir to a bankrupt estate? Imogen had the part of it that was worth anything at all, and nobody could remove it from her. My husband had donated the house and estate to the Cause. I had nothing. A child of my own would not have helped that.” She tossed the papers down on the sofa next to her. “How did you get all these?”

“A long arm and a deep purse,” he said. Julius leaned forward, pushing into her mother’s—Mrs. Thane’s—area of the room. As if he’d shoved her, she flinched back.

“So you know it all.”

Julius regarded her closely, his blue eyes a deep intent sapphire. “What else do you think I know?”

Mrs. Thane shrugged. She had so often sent Imogen with a flea in her ear when Imogen had asked her about her babyhood that Imogen had stopped asking. Just so, with a careless shrug and an, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She couldn’t get away with that now.

“Do you know the Duke of Northwich?” Julius demanded.

“Of course. I’ve met him since we came to London.”

“Did you know him before?”

She laughed shakily. “I don’t know what you mean. No, of course not. I knew
of
him.”

“Of course,” Julius said. “Everyone has. He’s a noted Jacobite, but he’s never been caught in traitorous activities. He lets other people do that. Tony married Imogen in such haste because the duke has been showing a particular interest in her.”

She shot Imogen an irritated glance. “She should have waited. Lord William is a considerable catch, and he was very interested in Imogen. His affiliations are such that women are vying for his hand. A younger son with a modest estate could not compare to that.”

Imogen clenched her fists in her lap. “I was not interested in him.”

“Really, Imogen, a female in your position can’t be too fussy!”

Yes she could. She really could, since she cared little for social standing and political fussing. She had found the one man she wanted, and already he was an essential part of her life. She couldn’t imagine life without him.

A report sounded outside, so loud it made her start in alarm. “What was that?”

Julius was already on his feet and heading for the window. Shouts and running feet sounded from outside. “Stay here,” he rapped out. “Don’t go near the windows.”

He raced across the room and left.

Shocked, the two women stared at each other. No, she couldn’t wait to discover. What was she, a weak vessel? Men so often underestimated women like her. Imogen got to her feet and approached the window from an angle, so if there were any danger, nobody would have a clear view of her. Mrs. Thane protested, but Imogen ignored her. Something she should have done years ago, but now she had better reason.

“Come back, you stupid girl!”

Easy to ignore the insults once she realized they meant absolutely nothing to her. Using the drapery to cover her, she peered out of the window.

Across the street, a carriage had halted, and only the coachman remained with it. She’d have to move closer to see the cause of the commotion. People were running toward the house, converging on something in front of it.

The portico obscured much of her vision, but a travelling coach was drawn up before the house. The one meant to carry Mrs. Thane home, she supposed. Now redundant, as she didn’t want to let her go just yet, sure she knew something she wasn’t telling them.

Trunks and bags lay on the pavement, and a footman was busy recovering them and handing them to the servants who were carrying them indoors. Where was Tony? She couldn’t see him from her vantage point.

The horses, put to fresh, were stamping and shaking their heads. The coachman was fortunate that the bang, whatever it was, hadn’t made them bolt. Perhaps someone dropped one of the trunks. That would make a resounding sound. But why were people gathering around? A smashed trunk wouldn’t bring so many, surely?

The sound of voices raised in alarm, or anger, or both, reached her ears, but the window wasn’t open so she couldn’t make out any words. But the ring that had formed around the door and coach contained excited, agitated people from all walks of life, and none of them appeared too anxious to approach any further.

When heavy footsteps came from the stairs, Imogen spun around, careful to keep out of sight, as Julius had bade her—well, almost—and faced the big double doors as they burst open to admit a clearly perturbed Julius.

His wig was awry, and she’d never seen that before, never imagined it happening, revealing a glimmer of his fair hair, and his coat bore stains. Dark stains.

Oh, God—bloodstains.

“Come at once,” he said. “He’s been hurt. Your husband is shot.”

Imogen’s first foolish, irritated thought was, “Not again!” but that was replaced immediately by alarm. Her heart swelled, seeming to occupy all her chest, pounding as if it wanted to escape the cage of ribs containing it. Her breath shortened and spots appeared before her eyes.

No fainting, none. Not now.
She reached out blindly, and Julius took her hand, gripping it hard enough for her to regain her senses, at least partly. “It’s bad,” he said. “Come at once.” He tugged and she followed.

Ignoring Mrs. Thane’s shrieks and lamentations, Imogen ran out of the room with Julius and up the stairs to the bedroom. Servants milled around, the house a place of chaos and confusion rather than the order she was used to.

He’d taken Tony to the bedroom she occupied when she stayed here, so recently vacated in much happier circumstances. A widow so soon? It would not happen. Could not. She had found such happiness and it would not be taken away from her.

A man stood outside the door, one of the burly footmen Julius employed. Helena stood outside, hands on hips, visibly annoyed. “This fool man won’t let me in. For God’s sake, I can help!”

Julius took her hand. “I fear you cannot, my dear. Please, go and care for Mrs. Thane. She is deeply overcome. Let me take Imogen in.”

Helena stared at him in silence for a second, her eyes widening, and her mouth dropping open. “No.”

Julius sighed. “Come in, then.”

He opened the door. Imogen put her head up, her habit when facing adversity, set her chin, and went inside, Helena close behind.

Julius closed the door quickly.

Instantly warm arms closed about her, and Tony’s lips were on hers. Heedless of anyone watching, she returned his kiss. Relief and thankfulness surged through her in a wave so strong she thought she might die. Tears rolled down her face, relief achieving what tragedy could not.

He kissed her fiercely, and held her close, then released her. “Sweetheart, my love, I’m so sorry. I refused to do this unless Julius found you and brought you here immediately.”

“What?”

“I was shot at, again.” He set her a distance holding her upper arms, and gazed down at her face. “He grazed me, a mere scrape, but it created enough blood to make it believable. I went down with the impact, and by then Julius was on me.”

She sighed in relief and closed her eyes, concentrating on drawing breath. She would not give in now.

Julius took over. “This is the second time someone shot at my cousin. It is clear that whoever it is will not stop until they have him. Unless we strike first. I’ve let out that he’s gravely injured, close to death.”

She gazed up at him, assimilating what was happening. “Will you tell your family?”

“Yes.” No equivocation there. Everyone who cared about him would know. She could agree with this outrageous scheme if he did that. But what next? “What do you plan to do?”

“Draw him out,” Tony said. He had a bandage roughly wound around his upper arm, bloodstained, but the blood was no longer flowing. “We know who this is, don’t we?”

Her head whirled with possibilities. Who could she trust? The people she’d known all these years weren’t who they thought. Were these people telling the truth? This man, holding her so securely?

Could she even trust herself? Because whatever he was, she still loved him with all her heart.

She made her decision. If she was foolish, so be it. But her mother had never shown the care Tony had. She’d never noticed when Imogen was out of sorts, or busy, or too tired to sit through a dinner with their neighbors.

Horrified, she searched her mind. Yes, they knew. “One of two people. Lord William Dankworth. And my mother, or the woman posing as my mother.” Lord William wanted her, and Tony was standing in the way. Mrs. Thane might want to cover her mistake, and given the order earlier, before she knew the game was up.

Tony clasped her close. His heart beat strongly against her cheek, and he cupped her head with one big hand. “I love you, Imogen. I’m never giving you up. I won’t have this trouble hanging over us. I decided to stay down when I heard the report. They brought me here, but by then I realized the wound was not serious and sent them away until Julius came.”

“They have played into our hands.” Julius took a turn around the room, the skirts of his green town coat flying behind him. “If we say the wound is serious, we will bring the assassin out into the open, like a partridge flushed out of the wood.”

“And we have the advantage.” Helena’s honeyed voice poured over them, the richness of her tones not concealing her pleasure in the notion. “Why would you say it was one of those? Mrs. Thane was with you in the drawing room.”

“You don’t have to hold the pistol to be responsible,” Tony said. “In this instance, whoever did it shot damned close to the first one. I suspect either that’s their poor aim or they used the same weapon, and it pulls to the left. I was standing completely still this time.”

“What were you doing?” She stayed close, held against his warmth, counting every miraculous beat of his heart.

“I was supervising unpacking your mother’s luggage. I beg your pardon—Mrs. Thane’s. It occurred to me that women often have secret drawers in their jewelry chests or their stationery boxes. Something of that nature could hide a document, or secrets. Julius wouldn’t have missed them if they were at your house. He’d have searched most thoroughly.”

“A lot of papers are lodged at the lawyer’s, but mostly they’re duplicates, or they have the originals and we have the duplicates. I don’t know of any documents unique to either site.”

“I assumed that was so,” Julius said, “but I visited your man of business with your letter of authorization, just in case. I claimed we’d mislaid your birth certificate. He produced one, patently false, and I asked to look through your other papers, since you gave me permission. He refused, as a good lawyer should, but I judged him a man of honesty and sense. He deals with too many clients to want any of them to accuse him of dishonesty.”

She smiled against Tony’s chest and eased away to look up at him. He met her gaze and returned her smile. “I want to do this because I want you to be safe. Completely secure. This last push and we’re done. Then we’ll go home.”

“Yes.”

He kissed her, but soft and sweetly. A sigh behind them told them Helena was watching, but Imogen didn’t care.

“The hell of it is that I have to stay here while you and Julius do the work.”

“I get to stay with you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“So,” Julius said, walking around to where she could see him, “how do we go about this? We’ve seized the advantage. Now we have to use it.”

* * * *

The next day, a sad procession prepared to depart from the London residence of the Earl of Winterton. The whole of the town had heard of the shocking attack on the earl’s cousin, Mr. Beaumont. Julius had ensured that everyone knew it by the simple expedient of discussing the matter in the servants’ hearing. Nobody could spread gossip as fast as a good domestic servant.

Consequently, a small crowd had gathered to watch the sad departure of the gravely injured Mr. Beaumont for his cousin’s country home. Imogen had dressed in a suitably somber gown, and although she didn’t look to right or left when she left the house, she had ogled the crowd from the window upstairs before they left.

“Come back to bed,” Tony had suggested. “Let’s do what Julius suggested and send substitutes.”

“No.” Regretfully she turned from the window. “I’d like nothing more, but whoever is watching will know me.”

“If it’s not a hired man.”

“Even then, Lord William won’t have made the mistake of sending someone who didn’t know his target. He brought servants to Thane Hall. Maybe one of them is waiting for us. Or nobody at all.”

Tony threw back the bedclothes. For a gravely injured man, he’d been remarkably active last night. He winked, and she laughed, immediately clapping her hand over her mouth. The footman outside had orders to keep everyone away, but she should not risk a laugh. Sighs, groans, and the occasional cry of “Oh, yes!” had her concerned, as well, but he’d wrung all those out of her too.