Carla Kelly (21 page)

His sneeze was so
powerful it seemed to circulate around the room, making the air
vibrate. He sneezed again and again, even as he tried to brush the
offending pollen off his coat.

This was a
mistake. He lost his balance and fell out of the window,
maintaining a tenuous grip on the sill even as he sneezed and
cursed and beat with his feet against the side of the
house.

Omega lay back
and surrendered herself to laughter. “Matthew!” she gasped. “You’d
better come in here. Matthew!”

Even before she
had finished shouting, the door slammed open and Matthew stood
there, clad in his nightshirt, pistol in hand. “Good God, what is
that caterwauling?” he asked, and then stared at her as she sat up
and clutched at her ankle.

“
Oh,
it hurts when I laugh! Matthew, you must help that
 
... that man at the
window!”

Openmouthed,
Matthew dropped the pistol on the bed and ran to the window,
leaning out. “Oh, hold on.” He peered closer. “I do believe you are
Timothy Platter, are you not? Pleased to meet you, sir. Perhaps we
should shake!”

Omega’s laughter
gave way to occasional hiccups as Matthew grabbed the Bow Street
Runner by the pants and the back of his coat and hoisted him in the
window. The morning glories were wrapped around Mr. Platter’s ear
by now, and Omega decided that he looked quite lovely.

He sat down with
a thump inside the window, gazing about him with a dazed
expression. Matthew held his hand out in front of him. “Don’t move.
Don’t even think about moving. I’m going to get my pants on. Omega,
point this pistol at him if—and only if—you think you can collect
yourself enough to be useful.”

She took the
pistol from him, trying not to smile, and failing miserably.
Matthew glanced down at his exposed legs and snatched the blanket
off the end of the bed. “I’ll have you know that in some circles
these are considered quite shapely,” he snapped. “You need only ask
Gentleman Jackson or any number of my fellow inmates at
Oxford!”

He exited with as
much dignity as he could muster, returning moments later stuffing
his shirt into his pants. He leveled a withering glance at her that
did nothing to foster her sobriety, and pointedly turned his back
to her as he hauled Timothy Platter to his feet.

“
And
now, you will explain yourself!” he said as he pushed Mr. Platter
into a chair.

Mr. Platter
removed the flowery vines from about his ear and muttered something
about “bleeding roses.” Matthew winced. “Sir, remember yourself,”
he ordered, looking with no sympathy on Platter.

“
You
see, Lord Byford, if that is who you claim to be, I thought I was
in your room. I climbed the trellis.”

The viscount sat
down on Omega’s bed. “I have a front door, Mr. Platter. At least I
did the last time I checked.”

“
Happens you do, sir, but I am no flat. Timothy Platter’s mam
raised no half-wits.”

“
Words
do not express how relieved I am to hear that. Pray continue,” said
the viscount. “It is early, and I fail to see the connection
between your mother and my front door.”

“
Do
you know that your place is devilish well-guarded?”

Matthew nodded, a
trace of a smile on his face.

“
I
thought I would try the window.”

“
I am
incredulous. Is this something new in law enforcement?”

Platter took
exception to Matthew’s tone. “Sir, when a gentry mort searches the
pubs and scatters about messages that he wishes my presence, I get
leery.”

“
So
you thought the window would be best.”

“
I
did. I thought this was your room.”

“
As
you can see, it is not.” Matthew glanced at Omega, who had regained
her composure. “If this room were occupied by anyone less ... shall
we say ... lively of mind than Miss Chartley, you would probably be
pitched on your head by now.”

“
I
like that,” said the lively Miss Chartley.

“
I
thought it was your room,” the Runner insisted. “I stayed in the
flowers until the guard went away, and then I climbed up, and there
you
were, sitting in this very chair! It was dark, but I
could see your face.”

Omega stirred.
“Matthew, what are you up to?”

“
That’s what I’d like to know,” declared Timothy Platter
virtuously.

“
I
come in here every night to make sure you are well,” he said
softly.

“
But
you sat and sat!” said Platter in triumph. “And so I thought this
was your room. An honest mistake, gov’nor.”

“
I
must have fallen asleep,” Matthew suggested, more for Omega’s
benefit than the Runner’s.

“
Your
peepers was wide open, my lord. I watched you. I couldn’t make a
move in the window however, because that guard came back.” Platter
attempted a diversion. “Your guards would have been the first to
drop at Waterloo, sir.”

The tactic failed
because Matthew ignored it. “In future dealings, Mr. Platter, if we
are so blessed, be assured that you may approach my front door with
temerity.”

The men eyed each
other. “And now I am here, my lord. Where is your
nephew?”

The men eyed each
other for a moment in a room filled with silence. “It must be the
early hour that troubles me again, Mr. Platter,” said Matthew
slowly. “I cannot understand the connection between my nephew and
your ante-dawn climb. Is there one?”

Platter said
nothing for a moment. Omega watched his face grow redder and
redder. When she thought that he would burst, he pointed a finger
at Matthew. “Don’t bait me! Don’t be calm and well-bred!” When
Matthew said nothing, he turned his attention to Omega. “And you!
It was you who nabbed Jamie out from under my reach, right when I
had him. Don’t give me that wide-eyed missish look,” he shouted.
“You know where he is, and it’s my commission to find him and
restore him to his uncle.”

“
You’ll have to do better than that!” snapped Omega. “If you
think I would willingly turn over a child to an ogre who beats him,
then you’ve got windmills in your head!”

“
Speaking of my head,” Platter snapped back, “I’d give more
than a shilling to know what you spiked me with.”

“
A
paperweight,” she hissed, “and I’d do it again in a
minute.”

“
I
could ruin you,” he said, his voice quieter. “You gentry morts may
not think we Runners are much, but I could ruin you.”

“
I
have already been ruined, sir,” she replied, her voice matching
his. “I haven’t a thing to lose by defending James
Clevenden.”

“
Here,
here, now,” interjected Matthew. “You don’t need to mill each other
down.” He looked at Omega first. “My dear, pull your claws in. The
boy is in no immediate danger.” He turned to Timothy Platter. “Yes,
my nephew is here, and here he will remain until I am absolutely
satisfied about his welfare. If this disturbs Lord Rotherford, he
can come and tell me himself.”

“
He’ll
likely do that, my lord. I have already sent for him.”

Omega sucked in
her breath. She knew it was unreasonable to hope that Platter would
not fulfill his commission, but she had hoped that he would wait a
bit.

There was silence
in the room again, broken at last by Matthew. “Would you believe me
if I told you that you have made a terrible mistake?” he said
quietly.

Platter passed a
hand in front of his face. “I might believe anything, my lord. You
can’t imagine what a summer this has been. My boss, he told me,
‘Tim,’ he says, ‘this will be a regular holiday for you. A chance
to breathe the air of the country again.’
 
” Platter sighed and shook his head.
“Like a gull, a real flat, I believed him. And what have I done
except get sacked by an ostler’s yard boy, clobbered by a
paperweight and nearly drowned, and ... and generally just been
discommoded.”

“
At
least you still have your clothes,” Omega began.

“
Omega, please!” said Matthew.

She allowed him
to wave her into silence, but sat, arms folded, lips tight, in
grumpy silence.

Matthew regarded
her a moment, as if to assure himself that she would behave.
“Setting all this aside, Mr. Platter, I would like to accompany you
to London. I have a matter of business that might interest you. I
hope that it will explain some of our reluctance to release Jamie
to his other uncle.”

“
Anyone can travel on the common stage,” said Platter, not
about to be placated by Matthew’s gentler tone. He looked pointedly
at Omega. “I
had
a horse, but it departed my company when I
found myself floating downstream.” Omega opened her mouth, but
Matthew glared at her. She closed it.

“
You
have my word—and Miss Chartley’s word—Oh, yes, Miss Chartley—that
Jamie will remain here,” said Matthew. “I will happily provide you
with one of the mounts from my own stable, and we—”

“
I
can’t be bought,” interrupted Platter.

“
I’m
not buying,” said Matthew evenly. “When we get to London, I expect
my horse back. I need to acquaint you with a story that might
arouse your interest, particularly if you denizens of Bow Street
have a file of unsolved murders. I must engage your services, Mr.
Platter.”

“
I’ll
consider it,” said Platter. “But no promises, do you
hear?”

Matthew clapped
his hands together. “Excellent. That means that I will likely not
be required to engage in a bit of real unpleasantness and have the
constable incarcerate you for breaking and entering, coupled with
possible attempt to do bodily harm to a female invalid.”

Omega sputtered
and Platter fumed.

Matthew smiled at
the Runner. “Our constabulary here is so efficient. I could have an
officer of the law here in—could it be?—five or ten
minutes.”

The silence was
heavy in the room again. Platter thoughtfully brushed the rest of
the pollen off his coat. He sneezed several more times, and then
slapped his knee. “Let’s go. I’ve had all the peace and quiet of
the country that I can stomach, my lord.”

“
I
knew that you would understand, Mr. Platter,” said Matthew, his
voice filled with cordiality. “Let me show you to my stables.” He
winked at Omega before he left the room, his hand on the shoulder
of the Bow Street Runner. Matthew Bering and Timothy Platter did
not even wait until breakfast to leave. Two horses were saddled and
ready to ride even before the children woke.

“
It’s
better this way,” said Matthew as he pulled on his gloves. While
the impatient Mr. Platter waited in the hall below, Matthew had
requested Hugh’s presence in Omega’s room. “Hugh, I would ask that
you resume the role of Major Owen.” He buttoned his glove.
“Rotherford may be here before I get back from London. He’s more
likely to be intimidated by a major. My dear Omega, you must
continue your role as housekeeper, I fear, and that means a return
to the company belowstairs. Keep Jamie close by you.”

“
By
all means.” Omega held out her hand to him, and he took it. “But,
Matthew, what are you going to do in London?”

“
Something I have avoided for eight years,” he replied grimly.
“I am going to see what I can learn about what happened that night.
It could be that I am innocent of all that Rotherford has led me to
believe. It could also be that I am quite guilty.” He sighed and
sat down on Omega’s bed. “And if that is the case, we’ll have to
devise another course of action for Jamie. Or, rather, I will,” he
amended. “At any rate, Omega, after you see this little masquerade
out, you should be on your way to Durham soon enough, whatever the
outcome.”

“
Yes,”
she agreed, keeping her voice steady. “I don’t have much time left,
do I?”

“
Neither do I, likely,” said Matthew. “Hugh, could you go below
and see if there is anything Mr. Platter needs? I’ll be right
along.”

When Hugh left
the room, Matthew went to the window and stood there looking out at
the flower garden, hands in pockets, rocking back and forth on his
heels. “I have so enjoyed it here,” he said at last. He turned
around to face Omega. “Do they, as a rule, hang murderers who
happen to be members of the peerage, or merely transport
them?”

“
Matthew, please!” she said, and held out her arms to
him.

Without a word,
he knelt by the bed and wrapped his arms around her. She hesitated
only a moment, and then hugged him to her, resting her hand on the
back of his neck, running her fingers against the nap of his hair.
With an ache more immense than any pain she had felt in the last
few days, Omega remembered that the last time she had fingered his
hair was the night before her wedding, when she said good night to
him.

He pulled himself
away from her. “No one’s done that for ever so long, Omega.” His
voice was strangely altered. “I can’t tell you how good it
feels.”

She pulled him to
her again, fiercely this time, as if she did not wish to let him
go. “Matthew, be careful!” she whispered in his ear, and then
kissed his cheek.