Love's Harbinger (18 page)

“The ship leaves at nine. Guy thought Lord Thomas would come for the money about eight, but he came earlier to be waiting for him. What time is it now?”

Faith squinted at her watch. It was hard to read in the shadow of the trees. “Seven-forty-five.”

“I bet Guy’s setting there in the dark with his gun pointed at the door. I pity Lord Thomas.”

“Thomas can shoot the eye out of a pheasant in flight.”

“Go on. Nobody could do that!”

“Yes, he can.”

“Lord Thomas will be cautious, too—expecting trouble, I mean,” Millie said pensively. “Maybe we should go into the building and creep up the stairs. If Guy hasn’t opened the door yet, we could warn him.”

A terrible trembling shook Faith at the thought of such danger, but when she spoke, her voice was calm. “I’ll go, Millie. Thomas would never shoot me. I might be able to reason with him.”

“He could be drunk as a skunk. I’m going with you.”

“No, you stay here. Guy may not have gone in yet. We need someone to warn him if he comes along.”

“Oh, miss, it don’t seem right, sending a helpless lady in there.”

“I am not helpless!” Faith said loftily, and walked with trembling knees toward the door of the east block.

Chapter Twelve

It was like entering a tomb to step into the building. Faith’s heart pounded mercilessly in fear, and her knees turned to water. The only illumination was pencils of light coming from beneath the doors of the various flats. From beyond the closed doors, the homey sounds of family life wafted down the corridors. A piano was being played in one; a convivial conversation was punctuated by laughter in another. It seemed unreal that ordinary life continued not more than a few yards away. She felt her way to the bottom of the staircase. At the top of the first landing, a faint ray of moonlight penetrated to show her a turn in the stairs.

She listened for a moment, and when no sounds came from above, she began her ascent—slowly, one step at a time. At every step, she thought her heart would burst. She quelled the instinct to turn and pelt back down to safety. Thomas might be there with his silver-mounted pistol aimed this very instant at Guy’s heart. She quickened her steps and nearly flew up the second flight.

Once she had reached the top floor, she had to stop and take her bearings. Thomas’s flat was in the east corner, facing the street—but was that left or right? She tiptoed to a window at the end of the hall, and when she looked out at St. Michael’s, she knew the door nearest to her was the one she wanted. She took a step toward it, listened, and heard dead silence from within. Then she heard a sound from another direction. Someone was coming up the stairs. It was a slow, shuffling step—an old man or woman. She looked around for somewhere to hide. There was no place— just a door behind her and Thomas’s door in front. She leaned back in the shadowed recess of the former and it gave way. She quickly pulled it open and discovered a broom closet. She whisked herself inside, just as the newcomer reached the landing.

She kept the door open just a crack and saw a man continue down the hall toward her. He wore the rumpled jacket of a laborer and a shapeless hat, pulled low over his eyes, on his head. His gait, while still shuffling, was rapid. Her first instant of relief was shattered when he kept advancing past all the other doors to the end of the hall. Good God, he was the janitor! He was coming to the broom closet. She would push the door in his face and run.

She held herself tense to do this. The man stopped right in front of her door, looked around, and pulled out a key. At this close range, she realized he was a bigger man than she’d first thought. When he stood up straight to look around, she rethought his age. He wasn’t so old after all. After a short pause, he put the key in Thomas’s lock and entered the room. It was all a hum then, that Thomas was in this building. A misunderstanding had occurred somewhere along the line. She had to admit her first reaction was relief, pure and simple. No further show of courage was required of her. She could return to the carriage and . . . And what? Thomas was still at loose, and Guy was still chasing him.

She left the closet and slid quietly into the hall. The old man had closed the door carefully behind him. It was strange he hadn’t turned on a light, but no pencil of light showed beneath the frame. While she stood, pondering this, she heard Thomas’s voice, and her spine stiffened. “What the hell!” was all he said, but it was enough. She’d know Thomas’s voice anywhere. He was in there with that old man, and she knew from the rough edge to his words that he was angry. Before she had time to figure out an explanation, a pistol shot rang out. There had been no other conversation. Thomas hadn’t waited to ask questions; he had just pulled out his pistol and fired.

And suddenly she knew what it was about the old man that had confused her. It was the latent strength in his shuffle, the way he had straightened up like a young man before inserting his key in the lock. It was Guy! He had donned the disguise to fool Thomas into believing he was a harmless old man, but it hadn’t worked. Thomas had shot him, anyway—but was he dead or only hurt? In a blind panic, she put her hand on the knob to open the door, but was stopped by the thump of a body against the wall and the sound of voices. Not dead, then! Thank God he was still alive!

“An old soldier’s trick!” she heard Guy say. His voice was silky, calm. “I thought you’d be the sort to shoot first and ask questions afterwards. You’re not dealing with babes now, Lord Thomas.” A mocking sneer emphasized the title.

She pushed the door open and stared into the dark room. At the far side, there was a man sitting calmly in a chair, not moving. In the dim light from the window, she thought the man was dead, but her greater interest was in the other two. How was it possible that Guy spoke so boldly when Thomas had a pistol pointed at his temple? Another gun hung from his left hand. He stuck it in his pocket. She looked again, shaking her head in confusion, but confirmed that it was Guy, dressed in fustian, who was held at bay. Both men turned to stare when she entered. Somehow, in the few seconds she had waited, Thomas had secured the advantage.

She didn’t hesitate a moment before taking a lunge at him. The men were thrown off balance by her entry and didn’t stop her. She reached for the gun in his right hand, and at this close range, she saw it was Guy Delamar she was attacking, his feline eyes glaring at her. A tiger looked tame compared to him. Without a second’s hesitation, he delivered a sharp blow to the side of her neck. It knocked the wind out of her and she fell to the floor. Then Guy spoke and confirmed that he was not the man in fustian after all. It was Thomas who had donned the disguise—Guy whom she had mistaken for him.

“Sorry to strike a lady,” Guy said grimly. More than grimly; there was animal savagery in his voice. “You’d have done better to meet him on board, Lady Faith. Of course you’d have had to make the treacle moon alone, but that would be better than your fate now. Back to the roundhouse for you.”

It was all much too confusing. Guy had hit her, and she doubted she could ever hold her head up again for the ache in her neck. From the floor, she looked aslant at the man in the chair. He must be dead—he still hadn’t moved. She looked at Thomas and through the shadows saw a scheming expression settle on his handsome features, only he no longer looked handsome to her. He looked dissipated and hagged and evil. His fustian coat robbed him of even the outer crust of a gentleman, and that was all he had ever had—the outer crust.

“We can talk business, Delamar,” Thomas said. Guy gave him a disparaging look but didn’t interrupt. “Look, you’ve got the money . . .”

“A spark of chivalry remains? Lady Faith’s freedom for you and the money—is that it? You must remember I am not at all noble in my sentiments, milord, but pray continue.”

Thomas hesitated. “That’s not the deal. We split the loot. I take half and disappear; you keep the other half and don’t let on you ever caught me. A hundred thousand guineas—where else would you ever get so much money?”

“Lady Faith and you continue the jaunt to America?” Guy inquired with mild interest.

“That’s up to her,” Thomas said, and shrugged his shoulders in indifference.

Faith tried to protest, but her voice refused to form words.

Guy uttered a sardonic laugh. “You’ll find it hard to believe, but I’ll have more than a hundred thousand guineas of pleasure from seeing you and your lady in the dock. You overestimate both my greed and my poverty. Move. Pick up the girl and walk very carefully out of here.”

Guy picked up the valise of money, put the muzzle against Thomas’s back, and watched as he tried to gather Faith in his arms. It was too ghastly, having Thomas touch her. She shook his hands off and struggled to her own feet.

“I can walk,” she said in a rough, unnatural tone caused by the blow.

“A squabble in the love nest so soon?” Guy asked, and emitted a bitter little laugh.

“Wait!” Thomas exclaimed. “We can still make a deal. You keep three-quarters of the blunt, Delamar. Just leave me enough to get out of sight. You know a lord will never be hanged. I’ll be tried by a jury of my peers—reprimanded—a few years in prison and that’s it. Prison isn’t so bad for people like me.”

“Prison is the only place for people like you!” Guy countered.

“I mean, we are allowed our creature comforts!”

“I am very well aware of the inequities of our legal system. Don’t tempt me past endurance, Vane. I’m looking for an excuse to perforate your spleen.”

“What difference does it make to you? You didn’t invest anything. You’ll still have your story, and a hundred and fifty thousand guineas to boot. You can say I got away with the lot; no one will be any the wiser. Your Mam’selle Ondit can fill a dozen columns with Faith’s repinings.”

Faith cast one look of loathing at Thomas and rubbed her sore neck. Had she really once loved this groveling, conniving thief who was ready to throw her to the wolves to secure his own freedom?

“Tempting, but I can resist,” Guy replied with a jeering lift of his brow at Faith. “Get moving, both of you, with Lady Faith in the lead,” he ordered, and Thomas at last moved out of the room, a muzzle nestled against his spine. “Don’t try anything, or you’re dead meat.”

They went downstairs single file. Faith opened the front door of the building and took a step into the street. She looked all around, wondering what had become of Millie, and still wondering about the dead man in Thomas’s apartment. Who could he be? She was on nettles to straighten out Guy’s misunderstanding of the case but knew this wasn’t the moment to distract him. There would be time for that soon enough. The important thing now was to get Thomas under lock and key.

Thomas, very much on his high horse, stopped and asked, “Am I expected to walk to the roundhouse?”

“You can crawl on all fours like the cur you are, or I’ll be happy to kick you,” Guy answered.

They proceeded around the corner, and still there was no sign of Millie. Delamar’s carriage was parked a few blocks away. Guy whistled loudly, but the groom didn’t appear to hear or see him. The carriage didn’t move. They took another step toward it. It seemed the worst was over. No one was looking behind, but it was from behind that a voice stopped them as Elwood suddenly issued from the shadows of a tree.

“Stop where you are. I’ll have the blunt,” he said.

They turned to see a gun leveled at them. Even while he turned, Guy took aim and shot it out of Elwood’s fingers. A loud curse rent the air. Elwood dropped the gun and reeled back, grabbing his wounded fingers. It was hard to pay attention to everything at once, but later Faith realized Thomas must have taken advantage of the momentary distraction to retrieve his gun from Guy’s pocket.

Suddenly he had the gun pointed at Guy and pulled Faith in front of himself for protection. “Now the tables are turned,” Thomas said. “Throw down your gun and drop the money.”

Guy cast a malicious, measuring eye at Thomas and held the gun steady. Faith knew it was only the fact of her shielding Thomas that prevented Guy from shooting and taking his chances. She had never seen such a ruthlessly determined face before. “Don’t even think about it, unless you want the girl’s death on your conscience,” Thomas said. His voice, though frightened, was firm. “Go on, drop the gun.”

Guy dropped it at his own feet. “Kick it away—far away,” Thomas ordered. Guy kicked it off to the side of the road. “Wise chap. Now the valise. Drop it.” It fell with a thump. “Now very carefully shove it forward with your foot. You, Faith, reach down and pick it up and carry it. And no tricks, my girl.”

Faith looked at Guy. His eyes flickered warily from her to Thomas. She couldn’t see the question in them, but surely he was coming to realize she was innocent. She saw the tense, alert set of his shoulders and knew he would take advantage of any help she could give, anything she could do to distract Thomas. Alas, nothing occurred to her. With a gun not six inches from her head, she hardly dared to breathe. Worse, she feared that Thomas would carry her off with him, and once they were alone, he wouldn’t be too careful what he did to her.

A low, triumphant laugh bit the air as she retrieved the valise and stood. “That’s a good doxy, Faith,” Thomas said. “I might take you with me after all—if you weren’t such a stiff-rumped little prude. Still, I fancy the girls in America will do me well enough. Now what shall I do with this bothersome wretch?” he asked, and gave Guy a long look. “Simple killing’s too good for you, Delamar. You deserve some of the bother you’ve caused me with your demmed meddling.”

Guy’s voice cut the air like a knife. “Let her go. This is between you and me.”

“Let her go—and have her run to report me to the police?” he asked. “I think not, Delamar.”

“Your ship leaves in half an hour. You’ll be safe.”

“Ships have been followed before and gentlemen removed. We wouldn’t want that. I really see nothing for it but to do away with the pair of you.”

As they talked, Elwood listened and finally realized there was a gun at his feet. He reached down, picked it up, and placed one throbbing finger on the trigger. Over Guy’s shoulder, Thomas saw him and yelled, “Forget it, Elwood. I might as well kill three as—”