If the Viscount Falls (35 page)

She caught her breath. He was asking her. Considering her opinion.
Trusting
her. “I-I want you to follow him. He's bound to lead you to Nancy eventually.”

“And if he doesn't?”

A shudder wracked her. “Lord, I don't even want to think about that.” She donned her bonnet and tied the
ribbons. “But you can't really follow him forever, so I suppose you'd have to capture him.”

“All right.” He shrugged into his coat, clapped his hat on his head, and opened the carriage door on the side Samuel couldn't see. “What about Meredith? What if
she's
the one hiding Nancy?”

When he climbed out, Jane followed him. “Don't worry about Meredith. I'll take care of
her.
” Jane wasn't about to let the maid escape scot-free.

Dom edged to the front of the carriage to look past the horses. He scowled. “Barlow hailed a hackney. I must go. But I don't like leaving you here alone.”

“I'll be fine,” she said, shoving him toward the box. “Go, go! He's getting away! Meredith and I will be waiting right here for you once you've found Nancy.”

He hesitated a moment more. Then with a muttered curse, he climbed up onto the box and rode off.

She watched him go, her heart in her throat. What if he
did
lose sight of Samuel? What if . . .

No, she was
not
going to think about all the things that could go wrong. She was going to hedge their bets by getting the truth out of Meredith. Surely it would help to know the maid's side of things. Meredith might even possess crucial information.

Hoping that she didn't look too much like a woman who'd just been thoroughly bedded, she straightened her bonnet and walked briskly across the street to the house that Meredith had entered.

Noting the window nearby, she ducked her head to hide her countenance behind her bonnet as she
knocked. It wouldn't do for the maid to recognize her and refuse to answer the door.

But Meredith must not have even looked out, for the door swung forcefully open, and she exclaimed, “Samuel, I swear that if you don't—” She blinked at Jane. “M-Miss Vernon! What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Nancy,” Jane said bluntly, and pushed past the woman into the house. “You don't have her here, do you?”

The color drained from her already wan cheeks. “I . . . I don't have her anywhere. She's not at Rathmoor Park?”

Jane stared accusingly at her. “You know perfectly well that she's not. So you might as well stop lying right now. I already saw you with Samuel.”

“Good Lord.” Meredith looked positively ghostly as she grabbed for a side table near the door.

“Are you all right?” Jane asked. The woman was
not
playing the deceptive villainess very well.

“I . . . I . . .” Whirling on her heel, Meredith ran into the nearest room.

Jane followed just in time to watch the maid cast up her accounts in a chamber pot. “Oh, dear.” Glancing around, Jane spotted a pitcher of water and hurried to dampen her handkerchief, then brought it over to Meredith.

Gratefully, the woman took it to wipe her mouth and forehead.

“Here,” Jane said as she led Meredith over to a sofa, “you must sit down.”

Some investigator
she
was, helping the woman who was supposed to be the enemy. Still, she couldn't help it. She could never bear to see a woman ill, especially one bearing a child.

But she had to know the truth. So, as soon as she and Meredith were seated, she said, “I assume that you and Samuel were arguing about your child.
His
child.”

“You know?” Meredith squeaked, her hand going to her belly. Then she paused. “Oh. Right. I forgot that Lord Blakeborough is your fiancé.” She scowled. “I should never have gone to him. But I didn't think he'd reveal my secret to
you,
of all people, especially after I told him I was mistaken about a babe growing in my belly.”

“Except that you weren't mistaken, were you?” Jane prodded.

Meredith stared down at the handkerchief. “No. After Samuel showed up, I figured everything would be all right, so I lied to his lordship. I didn't want the truth to get back to you or my mistress. She thought I was helping my ill papa; she'd never take me back if she thought I was bearing a bastard.
Especially
Samuel's bastard.”

Jane's throat tightened. “Because she was having an affair with Samuel.”

Meredith eyed her incredulously. “No, indeed! It was naught but a flirtation until his lordship's death. Then she started talking about how she could marry Samuel, how he wanted to marry her. And I was in a pickle. I thought she was deluded about his intentions, but I
could hardly tell her I was bearing his babe. I would have been turned off for good! So I asked for leave to come home to help my ailing papa.”

The young woman rubbed her arms. “I really thought Samuel would marry
me.
He was always saying how he loved me. But after I sent that note to his lordship, Samuel admitted he was planning to marry her ladyship. That he and my lady wanted to take in my babe, since she'd lost her own. Only they . . . wanted to make it look like she'd borne it herself, he said. That it was her late husband's. So the babe could inherit, you see.”

A vise tightened about Jane's chest. She'd been wrong about Nancy. Oh, Lord, how could that be?

“But that didn't sound right to me.” Meredith glared into the distance. “I'm not as much the fool as Samuel takes me for, you know. I understood how wicked that was, and I knew my lady would never do such a thing.”

The vise loosened a fraction, and Jane began to breathe again.

“So, I told him I wished to speak to her ladyship myself about it. He put me off for a few days, telling me nonsense about how she wasn't feeling up to it after losing the baby and such. This morning when he came to the inn where I work, I flat out told him I wouldn't do it unless I could talk to her. I gave him no choice but to agree.”

Meredith met Jane's gaze. “So, this afternoon, he brought me over to the house where she's staying. It was
awful,
miss. A rough-looking bruiser friend of Samuel's was standing outside when we got there. He and Sam
uel went inside with me and stood about the whole time I spoke with her ladyship.”

Jane swallowed, her heart clamoring in her chest. “What did she say to you?”

“Not much. She was cold and looked at me so suspicious-­like . . . There's no telling what he'd told her about
me,
about my part in everything. We hardly spoke two words, because he kept breaking in and correcting her on things. She wouldn't say a word about my baby, though he kept prompting her to.”

Meredith frowned. “The whole thing was odd, I tell you. So I started asking her if she was all right and how she was feeling and such, and that's when Samuel hustled me out of there and brought me home.”

Sweet Lord. It sounded to her as if Samuel was keeping Nancy against her will. If that were the case, and Dom was walking into a situation against at least Samuel and one of Samuel's prizefighters, possibly ­others . . . “You know where this house is, right?”

“Yes, but . . . well . . .” She twisted the handkerchief in her hands. “When I told Samuel I wanted no part of his scheme, he threatened me if I didn't keep quiet. Said he would blacken my name so I could never get a position again, that he would ruin me.”

“That's what you were arguing about,” Jane said.

“I was just trying to think what to do when you knocked.” Meredith seized Jane's hand. “Oh, miss, my papa really is ailing. I didn't make that up. He shouldn't even be working at the coaching inn, and Mama doesn't make enough to take care of us and a babe, too. I have
to have a position! I can't lose it. It would have been hard enough to rely on whatever Samuel gave me, but if he won't marry me and won't help pay for the babe and I can't work . . .”

“You leave Samuel to me,” Jane said fiercely. Edwin would help. He had to. Assuming that Meredith was speaking the truth, of course, about all of this. “But you
have
to tell me where he's hiding Nancy.”

Somehow she had to get to Dom, to warn him. Oh, sweet Lord, she dearly hoped she hadn't sent him into danger!

A knock came at the door, startling them both. Meredith leapt up. “What if that's Samuel? What if he's come back, and he finds you here? Lord help us!”

Jane stepped to the window to look out, then sagged in relief. “Oh, thank heaven, it's Tristan.” Without waiting for Meredith, she hurried to open the door.

“Jane!” Tristan cried. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Dom's Jane?” the man with him asked.

She didn't recognize him, but he had to be Max's cousin Victor. He and Max had similar faces, not to mention similar coloring. There was a definite family resemblance.

“I presume you are Mr. Cale.” She thrust out her hand. “I'm Jane Vernon, Dom's
fiancée,
” she said, delighted that she could say it at last.

Mr. Cale shook her hand as Tristan muttered, “It's about damned time you two made it official.” Then he
gazed beyond her to where Meredith stood. “Where is Dom, anyway? We didn't see the hackney out front.”

“He took it to follow Samuel, who was just here. He's trying to find out where Samuel is keeping Nancy.” She fought, unsuccessfully, to tamp down the panic rising in her chest once more. “But he might be riding into danger, and I don't know where he's gone.” She turned to stare at Meredith. “Please, you have to tell us. I can't take the chance that Samuel will hurt the man I mean to marry.”

“L-Lord Rathmoor? Y-You're going to marry his late lordship's younger brother?”

Jane nodded. “And then I'll be mistress of Rathmoor Park, and I swear by everything that's holy, I will make sure—
we
will make sure that you're taken care of. You and your babe and your family.” She seized Meredith's hands. “But you have to tell me
where Samuel is keeping Nancy.
”

Meredith glanced from her to Tristan and Victor, then released a long sigh. “All right. I'll tell you.”

21

B
Y THE TIME
the carriage carrying Barlow halted in front of a tumbledown town house across the Thames in Battersea, the light was fading. Dom pulled over a few doors back, then got down and pretended to check one of the horses' feet for a stone so he could keep an eye on his quarry.

Fortunately, Barlow didn't seem to be expecting anyone to follow him, for he didn't even glance around. He paid the hackney driver, who pulled off. Then he spoke to a beefy fellow lounging on the steps before using a key to go inside.

Those two things alone would have roused Dom's alarm, but coupled with Jane's concerns, he had to admit all wasn't quite right. The man with the look of a prizefighter about him appeared to have been standing guard. Given Barlow's present profession as an organizer of fights, might there be others inside?

The bruiser rose and headed up the street toward
Dom, whistling. The man was a good head taller than Dom, but that would make no difference if Dom took him by surprise. Laying his hand on the knife in his coat pocket, Dom waited until the man walked past him before following behind him . . . at least as far as the nearest alley.

Then before the big lug even knew what was happening, Dom lunged forward to catch him by the neck in a hold. Jabbing the tip of his blade into the brute's back, Dom dragged him into the alley.

A moment of struggle ensued until Dom hissed, “I'll bury this knife in your ribs, you bloody fool, if you don't stop fighting.”

The man stilled. “If it's money ye're after—”

“It's not.” Dom tightened his forearm across the man's throat, just enough to limit his breathing. “Who's in the house with Barlow?”

There was a long pause. “Don't know what ye're talking about,” the man wheezed.

“Then we'll stand here until you figure it out.” Dom stuck the bruiser with his blade just enough to make him bleed. “While we wait, I can do some carving.”

“Now see here,” the man warned him, “if you cut me, my friends will hunt you down and smash your face to bits. You don't know who ye're dealing with.”

“Neither do you. Ever hear of the Duke's Men?” God, how he hated that term, but it was better known than Manton's Investigations. “I'm one of them.”

“Ye're lying.”

“Not a bit. I've got friends of my own. With guns.
And plenty of reason to shoot them. My name's Manton. Perhaps you've heard of me.”

The man froze. “
Dominick
Manton? The runner what captured those rebels in Cato Street?”

“The very one.” He dug his forearm into the fellow's windpipe. “Now, let's try this again. Who else is in the house with Barlow?”