The Falcon's Bride (24 page)

The viscount took a seat on the lounge across the way, and Drumcondra sank back down on the edge of the bed. It would have hurt less to remain standing, but he was too recently out of bed to tax his strength. He needed that in reserve for what he was planning once the house was asleep and in darkness.

“So, sir,” said the viscount, slapping his knees. “Might I extract a straight answer from you, then? No one else seems willing. What the devil’s going on, Drummond?”

“I’m afraid I do not know what you mean, sir,” Ros hedged.

“To the contrary, I think you do. I shall come directly to the point. What is between you and my daughter? I know there is something. A blind man could see it. That Cosgrove has not speaks to the self-centered measure of the gudgeon. If I may digress . . . you do not like the man overmuch, do you?”

Drumcondra hesitated. The viscount seemed amiable enough, but it wouldn’t do to relax his guard. His warrior instincts were flagging danger now. That had happened the minute he set foot inside the castle. Now, it was as if all his nerve endings were in tune to extrasensory vibrations he dared not ignore. He had not forgotten that Boon was also Nigel Cosgrove’s valet. That had not been accidental. He got to his feet, signaling the viscount toward caution with a finger across his lips, and moved with the stealth of a tiger to the door. As he threw it open, the spindly-legged valet spilled in over the threshold, and the viscount vaulted off the lounge as the man came hurtling into the room.

“Is there something you wanted, Boon?” Drumcondra said.

“Eh . . . no, sir. I do not think so, sir.”

“Good. I shan’t need you then.”

The valet scrambled off, bobbing like a jackrabbit, and Drumcondra motioned the viscount to follow. The two men passed through a small doorway leading to a narrow passage. It connected to an antechamber that had once served as the sleeping quarters of his children’s nurse, who had also been slaughtered there.

“We won’t be overheard here,” he said, leading the way to a recessed settle in the corner beside a vacant hearth.

“Well, well,” said the viscount. Whipping out his hand-kerchief,
he dusted off the bench before sitting. “You certainly seem to know your way around the place, don’t you, sir. Have you been exploring?”

Drumcondra hesitated. What else could he say but, “Yes, my lord. Old castles are . . . a particular interest of mine.”

“Then you should get on royally with my son,” said the viscount. “James is an architect, you know—at least he means to be when John Nash is through with him. Brilliant man, Nash. Have you ever met him?”

“No, I cannot say that I have.”

“Mmm. Yes, well, we’ve gotten off the track.”

“It was my pleasure to escort your daughter home from her ordeal, my lord,” Drumcondra said seamlessly. “I am only glad to have been of service to her in her time of need.”

“Yes. Yes, well it ain’t her home yet. What happened to the thieves?”

“They ran off. When they saw me coming on with the dagger still in my leg to the hilt, I expect they thought it prudent to do so.”

“Forgive me for being blunt, but I never mince words. You have Romany blood by the looks of you.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Mmm, what were you doing prowling about Drogheda in such a storm? Do you make your home there, then?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘prowling’ exactly. I’d come from the north to purchase horses, when the snow delayed me. As luck would have it, I took refuge in the very place that your daughter was being held captive.” It was more than half-truth, and he was on the verge of being quite pleased with himself . . . until the viscount spoke again.

“And then you compromised her,” the man said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were then housed alone together for some time, I believe—were you not? Unchaperoned, that is?”

Drumcondra threw his head back in a mighty guffaw. “I was in no condition to sully your daughter’s honor, my lord,” he said on the wane of it. “With a four-inch dirk in my thigh.”

The viscount grunted. “Well, Thea has been compromised nonetheless.”

“Quite properly—before I arrived upon the scene, my lord, and she was for all of that . . . unharmed.”

“All right,” the viscount said, slapping his knees again. “We’ve danced about quite long enough, I think. You knew that valet was listening at the door. I believe you expected that he or someone would. Why? And what is your connection here? You and my daughter both must think me a bufflehead to be so easily twigged. I watched you both downstairs when you arrived. What? Do you imagine that I do not know my daughter, sir? I may not know you, but I am well acquainted with her, I can assure you. You may as well have it said. I shan’t leave these chambers until you do.”

Drumcondra hesitated. The man wasn’t going to give up without some sort of explanation, but how much of the truth should he share? Certainly not the truth entire. The man’s intractable eyes were boring into him. When he spoke, it was with as much authority as he could muster.

“Will you keep my confidence, sir?” he asked, meeting those eyes so like Thea’s. “Lives could well depend upon it—your daughter’s among them.”

“Intrigue, is it?” the viscount whispered, those violet eyes asparkle now with new light. “Well, out with it man. I shan’t breathe a word.”

“Are you familiar with the history behind this castle, sir . . . that it was stolen from its rightful owner, Ros
Drumcondra, by the Cosgroves nearly a hundred and twenty years ago?”

“I’ve heard little else, while awaiting news of my daughter, from that braggart of a son-in-law-to-be of mine.”

“Then you know that Ros Drumcondra was a Gypsy warrior, a border clan chieftain who presided over these lands in his own time.” The viscount nodded, and Drumcondra went on smoothly. “I, sir, am his descendant.”

“Ah-ha!” the viscount cried with a start, and gave another attack upon his knees, this time with his fists. “I knew there was something. So, all this is not exactly a coincidence, eh?”

“Not exactly. At least, not entirely. Beyond that, however, I must ask that you respect my privacy. These do not know it, and it is vital that they do not. There is something here that belongs to me—well, to my clan—that I must retrieve. These are not aware of it. Neither was their ancestor, Cian Cosgrove, but the legend has come down to me through my clan.” The viscount clouded, and Ros went on quickly. “Ros Drumcondra’s father, Cormac Drumcondra, left his son a legacy. I believe that legacy is still here, and if it is, I mean to have it.”

“What sort of legacy, sir?”

“Gold,” said Drumcondra. “Now do you see why I have begged your confidence?”

“Gold, you say? How much gold are we talking, sir, and what has my daughter to do with all this?”

“Gypsy gold, my lord,” Drumcondra explained. “The fruits of a lifetime. A virtual king’s ransom.”

“And you imagine such as that would still be here after all this time?” He shook his head and gave a skeptical grunt.

“I do. It is in a place that none will seek it—at least not this superstitious lot.”

“And where might that be, Drummond?”

“Before I involve you any further, there is something else that you must know.”

“And that is . . . ?”

“In regard to your daughter.”

“Continue. . . .”

“I love her, sir.”

There was a long silence. “I assumed something of the kind,” the viscount said at last. “And what are her feelings toward you?”

“They are the same.”

“Though she hasn’t said, I had that impression from her also. Why on earth did you bring her back here, then?”

“Because of you for one thing,” Ros admitted. “She was loath to cause you distress. The gold, for another. It will secure our future. And . . . for justice.”

“You mean to elope, is that it?”

“Something to that effect, yes.”

The viscount’s eyebrow lifted, and he cleared his voice. “I expect you want my blessing, eh?”

“Not without tribute, sir,” Drumcondra said steadily. Involving anyone was the last thing he wanted. Much depended upon his acting as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was not that he didn’t trust the man. He didn’t need any others in the way of what he was planning. There were too many involved as it was.

“Am I to be bribed then?” the viscount asked.

“Not bribed, sir. I prefer to look upon it as a settlement. I will double anything you hoped to gain from an alliance with the Cosgroves. Will you help us?”

“Not for your tribute,” the viscount said, rising. “I see how wrongly I have taken advantage of my daughter. I told myself it was an auspicious match—that it was for her betterment . . . for our
mutual
betterment. On the surface it was. You know, it’s odd. I hardly know you, sir, and yet I
see truth in you, while I see something more akin to deceit in Nigel Cosgrove.”

“I do not carry tales, but when your daughter and I first met, her lips were cruelly bruised. Cosgrove tried to force his attentions upon her, attracting the hawk that took his eye. That hawk belongs to me. Let no harm come to it. It protects her also. I cannot be abroad here now to do that myself. My strategy prevents it. I beg you keep a watchful eye upon her until I am at liberty to do so again.”

“Hmmm. Where is this gold that I’m about to help you steal, sir?”

“Exactly where I—that is to say, where Ros Drumcondra hid it. In his father’s crypt, sir. In the very coffer that contains his bones.”

Ros did not join the others in the dining parlor for dinner. He cried off, opting for a tray in his chamber. If they thought him well enough to leave his rooms, they might just deem him fit enough to make his departure, and that could not occur until he’d recovered the gold. His absence at table, however, did prompt a visit from James after the meal. Once the dinner tray had been removed and the servants dismissed, they repaired to the nurse’s chamber behind locked doors, well out of earshot.

“Thea is beside herself with worry,” James said, low-voiced, the minute the door latch clicked behind them. “When you didn’t come down to dinner, she began imagining all sorts of horrors.”

“I am counting upon you to put her mind at ease,” Drumcondra said. “I do not want to appear too sound just yet . . . in case our little plan goes awry and we need more time. Besides, the less discourse I have with these the better. I have already nearly slipped up once. That won’t bear repeating now.”

“I shall do my best, but you do not know Thea. She has it in her head that you have taken a turn for the worse. Once she takes a notion—”

“We haven’t much time,” Ros interrupted, dismissing the issue. “Your father paid a call upon me earlier. Have you seen him since?”

“Yes,” said James. “I only spoke with him briefly, but long enough to be certain he is not convinced our tale rings true.”

“Can he be trusted?”

James ground out a guttural chuckle. “It’s too late to worry about that now,” he said. “You’ve already taken him into your confidence.”

“Only to a point, and only because I had to; I had no choice. The man is keenly perceptive.”

“Let us just say you two lovebirds ought not pursue a future in Drury Lane. It’s a wonder Cosgrove hasn’t seen it—or that harpy of a mother of his.”

“If all goes well, I will be away with Thea before dawn.”

“Where will we go?”

“Not
we
, Barrington. You will not be going with us. There is bound to be pursuit. I need you here, where you can forestall it if you can until we are away.”

“I do not know what I can do in that regard. You will leave a trail in the snow out there.”

“If fortune smiles upon us, fresh snow will cover our tracks. There is a halo around the moon. That is a sign.”

“What is your plan?”

“I will need my horse brought round behind the castle. There is a service door in the northeast corner by the park. You will know it by a stand of young saplings nearby. Tether him there. Once all have retired, meet me in my rooms. Bring Thea. Have her dress warmly. It will be a
long journey, and much distance must be covered before dawn.”

“Where will you go?”

“Into the north for a time,” said Drumcondra. “Since time out of mind, my people have had allies there. I am hoping it is still so.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I will deal with that if it occurs.”

“Should I tell Father?”

Drumcondra nodded. “I need his blessing, Barrington.”

“I believe you already have it. He’s guilt-ridden over nearly shackling Thea to these here. If she hadn’t met you, she’d have gone along with it just to please him. It’s how things are done in our society. Deuced barbaric, if you ask me.”

“Some things are ordained in heaven,” Drumcondra said, thinking of the past and all that he had suffered so that he could meet his soul mate. All the blood he kept seeing—awake or asleep—since he entered the castle, a great red sea of it everywhere, was at the root of those thoughts. He could smell it. He could taste it. The castle was sullied with the stench and the stain, albeit invisible to all save himself. No. Repossessing Cashel Drumcondra no longer obsessed him. He never thought he’d live to see this day dawn. But it had, and now his only obsession was leaving it behind forever.

“What then?” James asked, snapping him back to the present.

“We go below,” he replied. “There is an underground crypt, one of many rooms that were used as torture chambers in medieval times. The one we seek is hidden behind a false wall—a secret passageway leads to it. I doubt this lot even knows of its existence. My father is buried there. The gold is with him.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because I put it there at his instruction when he died,” Drumcondra said. “Another passageway close by leads to the rear service door I spoke of . . . and freedom.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It will be . . . if things go well. And if not, just be certain all in residence are asleep before you come to me. The rope does not exist that can stretch Ros Drumcondra’s neck, but I would rather not at this time relish the chance to prove it.”

Chapter Nineteen

It was well past midnight when they began to assemble in the nurse’s chamber. The minute Thea crossed the threshold she went into Drumcondra’s arms.