Amanda Scott (52 page)

She heard a shout, her own vehicle paused after no more than another lurch, and the constables exchanged glances of puzzlement. The man opposite her could see more than she or her seat companion could, and he muttered with a frown, “Some nob, Cyril, a-jumping out o’ yon chaise without it even done come to a proper stop.” He blinked. “Only seen ’im oncet afore,” he said, “but I’ve a mind that says I knows that cove.”

“He is Sir Dudley Ryder,” Maggie said quietly.

The tall man next to her said reprovingly, “Now, miss, you remember what I told her ladyship afore, and don’t be telling me no more fairy tales.”

“But it’s him, Cyril,” his companion said earnestly.

The coach door was yanked open, and Sir Dudley’s face appeared. He said curtly, “What is going on here?”

“We’ve arrested a wicked Jacobite, yer honor, due to information received,” the one called Cyril told him.

Maggie’s first impulse was to shriek at Sir Dudley, to beg him to help her, to tell him she had been wrongly accused and that Rothwell was in deadly peril. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, she realized that she might say the wrong thing and make matters worse, both for herself and later for Rothwell. This man was after all the attorney general. It was his business to ferret out Jacobites and see them punished, and she could scarcely claim to be innocent of the charge. She had no idea what evidence might be presented against her, or indeed, what Sir Dudley already knew. These thoughts flitted through her mind in the blink of an eye, and she snapped her teeth together, waiting to see what he would say next.

He looked at her, clearly puzzled, and said quite calmly, “My dear, where is your husband? I collect that he cannot be here, or you would not find yourself in this predicament.”

The two constables became noticeably still at hearing these words, and striving to match Sir Dudley’s calm tone, Maggie said, “Rothwell fell suddenly ill, Sir Dudley, and in all the confusion that followed, these two men arrested me.”

His stern gaze fell upon the constables, and he said grimly, “Do you know that this woman is the Countess of Rothwell?”

“We had just begun to suspicion that fact,” Cyril said wretchedly, “but indeed, yer honor, an accusation were laid, and naught were said about the lady being no countess. Well, not nothing a sensible chap would believe.”

About to explain that he spoke what was very nearly the truth, Maggie caught herself again and bit her lower lip, waiting to be asked if that was the case. Instead, Sir Dudley said, “Nonsense, man, you must have misunderstood, for I know this lady quite well, and I can assure you that she is no Jacobite.”

“She were at that pestiferous masquerade, sir.”

Maggie’s spirits, which had begun to rise, flagged again, but she had underestimated Sir Dudley.

“Excellent,” he said. “She can tell us more about who was present. As you must know, we’ve had a deal of trouble getting two persons to name the same names, so her ladyship may prove to be extremely helpful. Under the circumstances, I will assume that in the confusion caused by his lordship’s illness you acted on an unfortunate misunderstanding. I’ll sort it out myself, however, so you need not stay. Will you take my arm, ma’am?”

She did so and discovered that her hand was trembling. As they hurried back toward the entrance to the house together, Sir Dudley put his hand over hers and said urgently, “Is Ned really ill? How ill?”

Her emotions more uncertain than ever, Maggie’s voice threatened to betray her, but she managed to say, “Very ill, sir, but James and the doctor are with him, so I hope that he … that is …” Striving to hold back her tears; she barely heard him when he said, “You behaved very sensibly back there, ma’am. That might have become a most dangerous situation. How came you to be arrested? Was there indeed a complaint laid against you?”

“Lady Rothwell,” Maggie muttered wretchedly. “It may have been a misunderstanding. Indeed, I do not recall her precise words. She was distraught; she feared that Lyd … that is—”

“Say no more,” he said, slowing so she could raise her skirt as they began to hurry up the steps. “If Lydia is in this, I know enough to guess the rest. In any event, I will see to it that you are not distressed anymore by this Jacobite business.”

She looked up into his face, and, aware that the front door was open, and Fields stood beside it, she said carefully, “I must tell you, sir, that I will be of no assistance to you in … in the matter you spoke of a few moments ago.”

To her astonishment, Sir Dudley grinned and said, “I don’t doubt that, but whatever political games may be played by others, ma’am, I know you are no threat at all to England.”

“Now, how can you know that, sir? You barely know me.”

“Ah, but I know your husband, ma’am, and have done for nearly a quarter of a century. Good afternoon, Fields,” he added before Maggie could think of a response. “What the devil is amiss with his lordship?”

Fields blinked at seeing Maggie, but to her surprise his expression warmed, although his tone was anxious when he said, “As to that, I do not know, sir, but Mr. James and Dr. Brockelby have taken his lordship up to his bedchamber.”

Just then a clatter of footsteps sounded on the stairway, and when Maggie saw that it was James, the speed with which he was moving sent a thrill of terror shooting through her, and she rushed forward, crying Rothwell’s name. James caught her and gave her a little shake, saying firmly, “Ned is fine, Maggie. Brockelby’s methods acted much faster than my own. Ned says he is growing quite accustomed to having his insides turned out every which way. But what are you doing back here? Lydia told me what happened, and I was just on my way to find you and explain things to anyone who would listen to me. Ned would have gone himself, but Brockelby has threatened to sit on him if he tries to get up.” He paused, grimacing, then added in a different tone, “This is the very devil of a coil, I must say.”

Quickly Maggie said, “Sir Dudley rescued me.”

James had been looking at her, but he looked up at the mention of that gentleman, whereupon Sir Dudley, who had been standing beside Fields, moved forward and said quietly, “I was glad to be of assistance to Lady Rothwell.”

James exchanged a quick glance with Maggie and gave her shoulder a squeeze that might have been meant either to reassure or to warn before he stepped forward to greet Sir Dudley, saying, “You have our thanks, Ryder.”

“I collect that I have come at a bad moment,” Sir Dudley said. “If Ned is too ill to receive me, I shall understand, but he did send for me, you know, so perhaps …”

“But he will be delighted to see you, particularly since you have saved his wife from the indignity of being questioned by your voracious minions. She can take you upstairs to him at once, and I’ll join you in a few moments. First I want a word with my mother—to reassure her as to Ned’s condition—and then I must collect something to give Brockelby in lieu of a fee. Stupid fellow seems to think that because I invited him to take a dish of Mama’s famous Bohea it would be a sin of the first order to accept his proper fee for saving Ned’s life.”

“Good lack,” Ryder exclaimed, “surely, the case was not so dire as all that.”

“No, as a matter of fact it wasn’t,” James said, shooting another glance at Maggie. “He just drank something that did not agree with him. But at the time, it frightened the liver and lights out of all of us, as you can well imagine.”

“I can, indeed.” He offered his arm again to Maggie, and said nothing until they reached the door to Rothwell’s bedchamber. Then, as she put her hand on the latch, he said in a musing tone, “I wonder if Ned will confide the whole truth of this business to me or if I am meant to remain in ignorance.”

Looking over her shoulder, she saw a twinkle in his eyes and, forgetting her resolution to think before she spoke, said frankly, “I don’t know how much he will tell you, sir.”

The sound of his chuckle as she opened the door was reassuring, and she hoped that Rothwell would not have cause to blame her for speaking, yet again, out of turn.

He was sitting up against a pile of fluffy pillows, looking pale but talking amiably with Brockelby, who straddled a chair and leaned on his arms on the chair back. Seeing who had come in, Rothwell exclaimed, “Maggie, thank God!”

The doctor scrambled somewhat ungracefully to his feet, and made his bow, but Maggie ignored him and rushed to Rothwell’s side. “Edward, are you truly well again?”

“I am.” He smiled with warm relief, and he took her hand in his, giving it a hard squeeze.

“He is a trifle weak from his exertions, ma’am,” Brockelby said, “but he will do well enough if he will but rest a bit.”

“I’ll see that he does,” Maggie said firmly.

“And you, sweetheart,” the earl said gently, “are you safe?”

“Yes, sir, thanks to Sir Dudley, I am.”

He looked at Ryder, who had paused in the open doorway, watching the pair of them, and said, “I am in your debt again, Ryder, but I daresay you will collect, in your fashion.”

Sir Dudley grinned at him. “I will. Ah, tell me, Ned, was all this why you sent for me?”

“In a way,” Rothwell said, glancing at the doctor and back at Ryder. “I will tell you the whole presently, I expect, but for the moment I prefer to keep my own counsel.”

“May one inquire as to the cause of your illness at least?”

Rothwell hesitated, but the doctor said, “An odd and most exaggerated reaction to tea, sir. Since no one else became ill, and since his lordship does not customarily do so when he drinks Bohea, one’s assumption must be that something other than tea got into the cup, perhaps in the kitchen before it was brought out.”

Fields, entering just then and clearing his throat, startled the doctor, who turned and glared at him, but his expression cleared at once at sight of the bottle of whisky and glasses the butler carried on a tray. Fields said, “With Mr. James’s compliments, sir. He said I should tell you, you would enjoy this more than Bohea.” After a pause, he added, “I assure you, sir, nothing at all went into his lordship’s cup in the kitchen.”

Before the doctor could discuss the point, Rothwell said, “Fields, take Dr. Brockelby and Sir Dudley downstairs and pour them all the whisky they want. Just get them out of here.”

Fields bowed, and the doctor immediately moved to accompany him from the room, but although Ryder seemed about to obey Rothwell’s wishes, he paused long enough on the threshold to say, “I trust you mean to tell me the whole. To grant me a speaking part without revealing the plot simply will not do, Ned.”

Rothwell’s eyes twinkled. “Knowing you have my heartfelt gratitude must be enough for now, my friend, although I will tell you—now that only Maggie can hear us—that I sent for you because my chatty sister made a verbal
faux pas
last night in the hearing of half a dozen persons. Word of it evidently got to your people, if not to you, since two of them had the effrontery to arrest my wife.”

“But not, as I understand it, in mistake for your sister.”

“No, they were assisted in their decision, but that is part of the bit I mean to tell you later. I assume since you were kind enough to rescue Maggie, I need have no concern for Lydia.”

“No, none.”

There was a pause. Rothwell said, “Will you encounter trouble over this, my friend?”

Sir Dudley smiled and said, “Not much, I think, thanks to your countess’s excellent good sense in saying absolutely nothing that can be repeated later to our embarrassment. Don’t fret over this, Ned. I’ll see to everything.”

“Good man. Now get out. I want to be alone with my wife.”

When Sir Dudley had gone and closed the door firmly behind him, Maggie felt nearly as shy as she had felt the first time she had found herself alone with Rothwell. He was looking at her now with both warmth and amusement, and she wanted only to hug him.

He pulled her down onto the bed beside him and said, “Would you like to climb under the covers? There is plenty of room.”

She wanted nothing more, but she said, “I must not, not yet, but I’m so glad you are better. I’ve never been so terrified in my life as I was when you collapsed. I thought you had died.”

“Would you have cared so much if I had, Maggie?”

“I would have wanted to die, too,” she said simply.

“James said you just let them take you away. You ought to have made more of a push to tell them who you were.”

“Would that really have made such a difference?” she asked, realizing he did not know the dowager had compounded her sins by accusing her of poisoning him. “It did not seem to signify when Lydia tried to tell them who I am, only when Sir Dudley did.”

“I owe him a great deal,” Rothwell said, stroking her arm. “You must have been very frightened.”

She grinned at him. “Do you mean because Sir Dudley said I did not speak?”

“No, sweetheart, because the experience you have already had with our English law cannot have led you to have much faith in it. I presume that you held your tongue because you decided that keeping silent was the wiser course.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You give me credit, sir.”

“You said something earlier today that I have thought about rather a lot,” he said. “You told me I had wronged both you and Lydia by not trusting you more. I realize I ought to have spoken with Lydia, and not merely assumed that to do so would be unwise. And in thinking about that, I realized that I have wronged you as well. You do speak out, sometimes without considering the consequences, but I have noted that you rarely say foolish things when you do. In fact, what I have liked best about you, aside from your more obvious assets, of course”—his hand moved to stroke her left breast—“is the fact that you are plain-spoken and direct. It seems absurd always to be taking you to task for that very asset. I do not doubt that there will be times in the future when your candor will annoy me again, but you have proven more than once—not least of all today—that you do know when it is wise to keep silent. A man can ask no more than that.”

“I told Lydia why you brought us home last night,” Maggie said, fairly blurting out the words in case they should make him change his mind about what he had just said.