Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (42 page)

“And you, Lord Wentworth. I see you’re wearing your regular day clothes. Do you plan to change for the tournament at Bernini’s? I believe that’s Daniel’s plan.”

He nodded. “Yes. I intend to go out to celebrate my win afterward, and I’d rather not do it in fencing garb.”

Her mouth twitched. “How exciting for you. But aren’t you worried that Daniel might win?”

Daniel and Wentworth exchanged glances, and Daniel answered for him. “Wentworth knows my heart isn’t in it. I prefer not to have fencing become yet another source of competition in my life. I get enough of that in my business dealings.” He turned his back to his friend and shot Catherine a wink, then leaned back against the writing desk. He heard a clatter and felt something wet against his hand. “Blast,” he said, jerking away from the desk, but the damage had already been done. He glanced down to see an overturned bottle of ink and grabbed at it. He set it upright to stem the flow of liquid seeping from it and accidentally dragged the sleeve of his shirt through the purplish-black mess.

“Blast,” he said again. “I’ll be right back.” He hurried from the room, sending in one of the maids to clean up the spill while he changed.

50 - Preparations

Catherine watched as the young maid used a damp rag to clean off the desk.

“It’s my fault he knocked over that bottle of ink,” she said to Wentworth. “I’ve been moving things around all morning, and I distinctly remember centering that bottle at the back of the desk. I didn’t realize Daniel had the habit of leaning against that particular spot, or I never would have placed it there. Not much harm done, though. At least it didn’t get on his jacket.”

She felt Wentworth’s attention sharpen. He stared at her intently and then gave a crisp nod. “I think you’ll do well.”

The maid finished up and scurried out of the room.

She cocked her brow. “Do well?”

“I think you’ll be the right sort of wife for Daniel. He would have been miserable with Lady Lydia, but you’re different. I like that about you. He’s had a difficult life, and he tends to push himself too hard in his constant search for perfection. It’s an impossible goal, and he needs to learn to let things go. I think you can help him with that. If fact, I’ve already seen some subtle changes in him. I think they can be attributed to your influence.”

She drew her brows together. “Because I’m not worried about spilling ink?”

“Well, yes, actually. You’re calm and forthright, and you don’t fly into a high dudgeon over some small error. I think the two of you are well suited.”

Catherine eyed him. “I’m not what he wanted.”

“No, thank God. But you’re what he needs. He might think he wants the approval of society, but what he really needs is to be appreciated for himself. Isn’t that what we all crave?”

Daniel came hurrying back into the room, pushing his malachite-topped cravat pin back into his neck cloth. She loved that he wore it so often.

“You look perfect,” she said. And he did.

He shot her a smile of gratitude. “We need to hurry,” he said, kissing her cheek. For a moment he filled her senses with the fragrance of his woodsy cologne, and then he stepped away. “Wentworth still has a quick stop to make before we go to Bernini’s. I should be back in about three hours or so.”

She watched them leave, remaining in the drawing room until she heard the click of the door as it closed behind them. Then she flew out of the room and up the stairs to the bedroom, hurrying to change into her fencing attire.

It only took her ten minutes. Once she was dressed, she stared for a moment at the knife Daniel had given her. She couldn’t very well strap it to her leg, but she was hesitant to leave it behind. She glanced at herself in the mirror, trying to decide where she might hide the small blade. There weren’t many places to conceal it in a fencing costume. Finally, she undid the clasps holding her jacket closed and slipped it inside, tucking it into the bindings she used to flatten her breasts. It was a little uncomfortable, but it would have to do for now. She could leave it in her storage box during the tournament.

Charles was already waiting for her in the drawing room when she arrived back downstairs. Butterflies flipped in her stomach. It was time for the tournament.

“You seem eager to leave,” her brother said in a teasing tone. “You aren’t usually ready to go someplace ten minutes early.”

“I could say the same for you,” she said, her voice as calm as ever.

“Hmm. You have a point. Shall we?”

With a nod, she spun on her heel and hurried to the stables at the rear of the house without waiting for him. Wildfire was saddled and waiting for her, and the stable boy had already hidden the horse’s white blaze. She mounted the horse and then was forced to wait for Charles to make his appearance. He sauntered out another minute later, grinning at her when she pinned her gaze on him and tried to pierce him with a mental bolt of anger.

“Stop worrying. We have plenty of time. Relax.”

“You relax,” she shot back. “You’re good at it.” She tightened her thighs against Wildfire’s sides and the horse bolted forward, apparently as eager to leave as she was.

51 - Message

Daniel’s horse was saddled and waiting for him when he exited his town house. As he and Wentworth climbed onto their mounts, Daniel noticed a young boy dart toward them. He waved a white bit of paper in his hand as he tugged on Wentworth’s pant leg.

“What’s this?” Wentworth asked.

“Some gen’leman said to give this to ya,” the boy replied.

“Who?” Wentworth said, taking the missive from the boy’s grubby, outstretched paw.

“Din’t say.”

“What did he look like?” Wentworth called out to the boy’s retreating back.

The boy didn’t even pause, but instead darted between two town houses and disappeared from sight.

Daniel watched as Wentworth tore open the envelope and noticed that the writing on the page was brief. “Who is it from?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“Frederick,” Daniel said, a note of grim resignation in his voice.

“Yes. I detest his ability to track me down. It’s unnerving.”

“What does he want?”

Wentworth gave a hard smile. “He says he needs me to meet him at the Brass Pig. Do you know it?”

“It’s an alehouse not far from Bernini’s. We’ll pass it on our way.”

Wentworth sighed. “We can ride together and you can show me where it is.” He glanced at the note again. “He says to come alone, so you’d best go on to the tournament.”

“I don’t mind waiting for you.”

Wentworth shook his head. “I don’t want you to miss the event, and he gives me no inkling of how long this will take. Sometimes he simply needs a piece of information, and that only takes a few minutes, but other times he needs me to help him accomplish some task. If Frederick’s task isn’t too onerous, I’ll be able to join you there directly.”

52 - A Runaway Cart

Catherine moved some distance ahead of Charles so that they wouldn’t be seen leaving together, and he caught up with her a short time later, exactly as they’d planned.

They moved from their residential area into the business district using the same route they’d taken these many years together. Catherine realized the district was quite different in the daylight. Normally when she passed through here, she only saw the bars and streetwalkers, but during the day many businesses were open. The area didn’t seem nearly as threatening now. She noticed a barbershop and shoe repair store she’d never seen open before, and both establishments appeared busy.

As they neared the end of the business district, they heard shouting from up ahead, and Catherine detected the loud rumble of a heavy cart approaching fast from a side street.

The cart flew out into the main thoroughfare, not pausing at all, and she could see the driver frantically pulling at the reins as he tried to slow the horses. The two frightened animals bolted ahead despite the man’s efforts, turning onto the street and running headlong toward Catherine and Charles.

“Charles, be careful!” she cried.

Terrified, Catherine pulled her horse hard toward the side of the road to avoid the out-of-control cart, and Charles followed close behind. As the heavy wagon surged around the corner, its speed and the weight threw the top-heavy wagon to one side, causing it to lean precariously. It toppled over, and the two carthorses shrieked in fear and pain as they, too, were thrown to the ground.

As Catherine allowed Wildfire to take a couple of cautious steps forward, another pair of horses shot into the street, this pair pulling a plain, black carriage. Fortunately, it turned away from the wreckage; otherwise, it would have collided with the tangle of horses, wood, and leather traces currently blocking the road.

When Catherine’s eyes locked with those of the driver of the black carriage, she was stunned.

She recognized him.

“That’s Stansbury driving that carriage.” Catherine said. Through the window of the carriage, Catherine could just make out the form of a dark-haired man. He appeared to be struggling somehow. Were his hands tied? How strange. “But who is that riding inside?”

“Are you sure it was Stansbury?”

“I’d recognize that man anywhere after what he put me through.”

Catherine moved forward on her mount, skirting the tangled cart as the driver scrambled forward to assess the damage. A crowd had gathered to help, and two men were assisting the horses while another group began to form around the cart, discussing how to get it back on its wheels.

As Catherine and Charles reached the side street, she saw a rider, sitting unsteadily astride his horse, enter the main road. He moved doggedly toward them.

“Isn’t that Wentworth?” Catherine said, pointing toward the man. “He doesn’t look well.”

As he came closer, she could see blood running down the side of his head. A stab of shock ran straight to her spine. “Lord Wentworth,” she called out.

The man looked at her blearily, taking a moment to register her identity. Or rather, Gray’s. He scrubbed his hand across his eyes as though trying to clear them, and then stared at her again, as if having trouble focusing on her.

She exchanged a worried glance with Charles and then he urged his mount forward to meet Wentworth. “Are you all right, m’lord?” Charles asked. “It appears you’ve been injured.”

“Spencer, Gray. Thank God you’re here. I’m fine. It’s Huntley who needs our help. Stanbury’s taken him.”

His words hit Catherine like a physical blow. She clenched at Wildfire’s reins.

“I saw him driving a carriage down the street heading that way,” she said, pointing down in the direction Stansbury had disappeared. “He was moving fast, and I’m certain he had someone inside. It must have been Huntley.” She almost choked on the words.

“How did it happen?” Catherine asked.

“Just as I left Huntley’s, my brother sent me a note asking me to meet him. Huntley went on ahead to the tournament while I went to the rendezvous.” Wentworth shook his head and then winced. “The note must have been forged. My brother wasn’t there. Instead, someone attacked me from behind and knocked me senseless. As I began to recover, I heard Stansbury yelling at me, saying he’d already taken Huntley.”

Wentworth began to slip sideways on his saddle and grabbed his horse’s mane for balance. “You have to go after him. Stansbury mentioned something about a warehouse, but I’m not sure.”

Catherine didn’t need to be asked twice. Huntley was in danger. “Which warehouse?” she asked. “The carriage is long gone.”

Wentworth didn’t reply.

“It has to be someplace where he won’t be seen.” Charles paused as he thought for a moment. He dragged his hand through his hair and then jerked his head. “He has a shipping warehouse in the East End. It would be a perfect location.”

A warehouse. Of course.
“I know where that is. Papa pointed it out to me once when he took me to one of his shipping offices out there.”

Wentworth let out a low moan and leaned to the far side of his horse. “I think I may be sick,” he said, and then made retching noises. Fortunately, he moved his head low enough behind his horse’s neck that Catherine was not forced to witness the regurgitation of his last meal. At least, not until it hit the ground.

“You need a doctor,” Charles said.

Catherine glanced between the two men. “Can you help him, Charles? I’ll scout the warehouse. Take him to Bernini’s. They must have a doctor there for the tournament.”

Eyes furious, Charles opened his mouth to argue, but she talked right over him. “No, Charles. My plan makes sense. You can follow me as soon as Wentworth is safe. I promise I’ll wait for you.”

“This is insane, Cat. I can’t let you go.”

“You have no choice,” she said. “And anyway, you can’t stop me.”

“Cat?” Wentworth said, confused. He tried to sit up in his saddle and look at her, but his eyes didn’t seem able to focus on her face.