Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (28 page)

Receiving no answer, he looked at Angus for the first time, and his eyes widened in alarm.

“Sit down, man, for God’s sake.” He took his white-faced brother by the shoulders and sat him down on a bale of cloth, shoving his head roughly down between his knees. “Breathe slowly. It’ll pass in a minute.”

“’M a’right,” came the muffled voice a few seconds later. Alex released him, and Angus sat up, still pale but no longer looking as though he was about to faint.

“I’m sorry, but I thought ye kent I’d have to kill him. You’ve seen me kill before. Ye’ve even killed men yourself, more than once,” Alex said, sitting beside his brother and putting an arm round his shoulder.

“Aye, I did, and I have,” Angus said shakily, ashamed now by his reaction, but still leaning into his brother’s comforting warmth. “But it’s one thing killing someone who’s trying to kill you, when your blood’s up, and another watching your brother kill a man in cold blood.”

Alex examined his right hand, splayed on his lap, the heavy ridged scar pale against his tanned skin.

“You’re right,” he said softly. “It’s no’ the same thing at all. But if I’d let him live, he would have killed me, Angus, and you and Duncan too. Not to mention all the others whose names would likely have been tortured out of us before we were executed. And if they connected me with Sir Anthony...” Alex shuddered. “I couldna let him live, ye must see that.”

“Aye, I see that, right enough,” Angus said, sliding his arm round Alex’s waist and squeezing, realising with a slight surprise that his seemingly invulnerable older brother needed comfort too. “But there isna any danger now, surely?”

“No, I think you’re right,” Alex mused. “I dinna think he told anyone else. But I want you to ride straight to The Three Crowns anyway and tell Rose what’s happened. And warn Duncan too. I think it’d be better if we find another place to meet. Probably better we dinna meet at all for a few weeks.” He stood up, galvanised into action. “I’ll move the body into a corner. It’s too risky to chance getting rid of it now. Can you and Duncan move the stuff?”

“Aye, I’ve the horse and cart ready, and we’re expected at the storehouse in a couple of hours.”

“Are ye feeling well enough to go straight away?” Alex asked.

“Aye, nae problem. I just went queasy for a moment, but I’m fine now.”

Alex looked at his youngest brother. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he was already moving purposefully toward the boxes of arms, putting the killing of the man out of his mind with all the carelessness of youth. Alex felt a pang of envy. He wouldn’t sleep well for a few nights to come. No matter that he had had no choice; he had just taken a life, and widowed an innocent woman.

“Good. I’ll be off then.” He moved towards the stairs, feeling suddenly weary.

“Where are ye going?” Angus asked, surprised.

“To keep my promise.”

* * *

Alex reined in his mount and looked up at the whitewashed inn with some trepidation. Yellow light spilled from the windows and the yeasty smell of beer assailed his nostrils as he approached the door. Someone was playing a pipe inexpertly, and there was a burst of laughter as he opened the door and entered the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the Swan Inn. He would rather have been anywhere on earth than here.

When he had told his brother what he was going to do Angus had tried to dissuade him by every means possible. But once set on a course of action that he was certain was right, there was no dissuading Alex, and Angus had finally desisted, wishing his brother luck as he rode off into the afternoon and wondering if he’d ever see him again.

It was the only honourable thing to do, Alex thought as he shouldered his way to the bar and asked if he could have a word with Mr Foley regarding a friend of his known as Mr Smith. The barmaid looked at him suspiciously but disappeared, and ten minutes later Alex was standing in a well-lit, comfortably furnished upstairs room, the merriment from the pub below muffled but unmistakably jolly and raucous, quite at odds with the tense atmosphere in the room as the two men cautiously assessed each other.

Gabriel Foley had risen to his feet as Alex entered the room, and he knew at once that this man was quite a different prospect to the small, sly, fox-faced ‘Smith’. Foley was of no more than average height, several inches shorter than Alex, but massive of shoulder and thick-waisted. He reminded Alex of a bull pawing the ground warningly, debating whether to charge. His face was ruddy, a jolly face, but the grey eyes that weighed Alex up now were shrewd and intelligent, and the expression was wary rather than good-humoured. Instinctively Alex recognised that this man was worthy of respect, and fervently hoped he would not have to kill him.

“You have chosen a very late hour to pay your respects, Mr Abernathy,” Foley said. His voice was deep and rich, the tone neutral.

“I didna choose the time, Mr Foley, it was forced upon me by circumstance.”

“Are you armed?”

“I gave my sword to the man at the door.”

“I know that, but nevertheless I rarely travel at night with only a sword for company. And I’ve not yet met a Highlander that wasn’t armed to the teeth even when doing nothing more risky than visiting his maiden aunt. You
are
a Highlander, are you not?”

Alex smiled, and opened his coat. He took the pistol and dirk from his waist and laid them on the table.

“Aye, I am,” he said carefully.

Foley waved a hand at a chair.

“Take a seat, Mr Abernathy,” he said. “Can I get you a drink? You look like a man who has ridden hard and fast.”

Alex gratefully accepted a glass of claret, and watched Foley’s eye drift towards Alex’s armpit as he sat down opposite him, almost as though he could see through the layers of cloth to the small
sgian dhu
strapped under his arm. The man was shrewd, and very knowledgeable. No doubt that was why he’d survived over ten years as the leader of a gang of smugglers, a profession not known for its long-term prospects.

Alex was not about to surrender his only remaining weapon without a fight, and to his relief the smuggler did not ask him to.

“So, Mr Abernathy, what can I do for you?”

“I didna come to ask for your assistance, sir, but to give you a piece of information.”

He could see the respect in Foley’s eyes turn to contempt. He thought Alex had come to sell information, perhaps to betray a supposed friend. He came straight to the point.

“I have killed a man tonight, Mr Foley, who claims to be a member of your association. I thought you should know of it.”

Gabriel sat back, but Alex was not deceived. Every muscle in the man’s body was tense, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Alex felt his own muscles tighten in response.

“You are either very brave or very stupid, sir, to come here alone and tell me you have killed one of my colleagues. Which is it?” Their eyes clashed, and both men recognised the force of the other’s personality.

“Neither,” Alex replied bluntly. “I made the man a promise just before I killed him, and I am here to honour that promise.”

“Ah, honour,” Gabriel said. “I have heard that Highlanders place a high value on honour.” Alex tensed, but there was no mockery in the man’s tone. “Well, English though I am, so do I, Mr Abernathy. Relax, sir, I’ll hear you out. Tell me who you have killed, and why.”

“I’ve been dealing with Mr Smith for some while, bringing in various items of merchandise. I kent that he had links with your people, and I also ken that you are no’ entirely unsympathetic to my cause.”

“I take it you mean the Jacobite cause. You are well informed, Mr Abernathy. Go on.”

“Tonight he attempted to blackmail me to the tune of ten thousand pounds. He has been following me, and had learnt various things about me that would put my life and the lives of others I hold dear in jeopardy. Because of this, I felt it necessary to kill him. I did it as quickly and painlessly as possible.”

“I take it then, that he was stupid enough to tell you this in a private place, where no assistance was to hand?”

“He seemed to feel I didna represent a threat, Mr Foley,” Alex replied.

Gabriel raised his eyebrows as he viewed the tightly-coiled body of the tiger sitting sipping claret opposite him. The man radiated violence from every pore, and what was more, a dangerous, controlled, icy violence.

“Well, I would say such a fool probably deserves to die. Smith, you say? Describe him to me.”

Alex did, while Gabriel leaned over to replenish his glass before offering the bottle to his visitor.

“Yes, he is, or rather was, a new member of my group. I confess that I was not sure of the man, but he was an excellent sailor, and knew the part of the coast around Hastings like no other. However I know well the value of anonymity, as I’m sure do you. My men are trustworthy. They ask no more questions about a man’s business than they need to know to ensure they are paid for their services. If you speak true you have done me a favour.”

“I canna prove what I have told you is true, sir, as I am sure you realise,” Alex replied.

“I do realise that. And you seem an intelligent man. You must have known that before you came here, and the risk you took if I did not believe you. What is this promise you spoke of?”

“Before the man died, I asked if he had a wife and bairns. He said he did. I promised I wouldna let them go hungry. With me I have only the money to pay for the goods Mr Smith procured for me, which I will give to you now. However, if you’ll give me the details of his family I’ll ensure that a regular sum is paid to them. I’d also ask ye sir, to convey my deepest apologies to them. I didna wish to kill the man, but he gave me no choice.”

Gabriel looked at Alex, open-mouthed.

“My God, you really mean it, don’t you? You risked your life to come here and confess to killing one of my men, offer to pay for goods you could have taken for free, and to support a whole family for years? What manner of man are you?”

“An honourable one, I hope, sir,” said Alex. “I do only what any of my clansmen would do, and for that matter, many other clansmen too. Ye must know that, an ye deal with Highlanders often?”

“I don’t deal with them often, although I wish I did if they’re all like you. I just recognise the accent and know where they keep their weapons.” He passed the dirk back to Alex, blade first. Alex took it, and sheathed it. For the first time since entering the pub, he relaxed. It was a good feeling.

“They’re no’ all like me,” Alex admitted. “There are rogues and saints in every nation. I’m closer to a rogue than a saint myself. But I’d no’ see bairns starve because they had a fool for a father.”

“You won’t see any children starve. The man was a bachelor. If he has any children they were born on the wrong side of the blanket and I’ve no knowledge of them, but I doubt it, ugly runt that he was. He no doubt hoped you’d spare him if you thought he had a family.”

He watched with amusement as Alex slumped back in the chair with relief.

“Christ, I’m glad to hear ye say that, man. It wasna easy, thinking that I’d widowed a woman and left five bairns fatherless.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be glad to hear me offer you a bed for the night as well, Mr Abernathy, but I’d suggest you take it. The weather is not conducive to a long ride through the night, I’d say.”

A shower of hail battered against the window as if to confirm Gabriel’s words. And Alex found himself saying that he’d be delighted to stay the night, in a place that an hour ago he’d gladly have ridden through hell to avoid, had honour not compelled him to do otherwise.

Chapter Ten

Early April, 1743

“I don’t know why you have such a mania for taking the air, Beth,” Lord Daniel said a little grumpily, shivering in spite of his layers of clothing. “It’s freezing. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if it were to snow later.”

They were walking arm in arm down the long thoroughfare of Birdcage Walk, which though full of fashionable pedestrians in the summer months, was now almost empty. Beth stopped, inhaling gratefully the fresh crisp air blowing across from the wide green spaces of St James’s park to her left. In spite of having now lived in London for over two months, she still had not become completely inured to the smells of the city, and took every opportunity she could to visit green places.

“You are being dramatic, Daniel,” she said. “It is far too cold for snow.” She glanced up in time to catch the look of horror that crossed his features, and couldn’t hide a smile.

“You are joking with me,” he said peevishly. “You are too cruel, when you know how sensitive I am to the cold.” He snuggled deeper into his heavy fur-lined coat.

“You spend too much time huddled round the enormous fires in your mansion, or drinking in stuffy coffee houses,” she admonished. “You need fresh air. It brings roses to your cheeks, and the exercise is good for you, if you walk at more than a snail’s pace, that is.”

“You’re being unfair,” Lord Daniel said as he handed her up into the waiting carriage, before jumping in himself, grateful to be out of the biting wind that Beth seemed to barely notice. “I do nothing but exercise all summer. But the winter is a time to take stock, and allow oneself a little relaxation. There is some compensation for the last hour’s suffering, though,” he said, looking at her fondly as she took off her gloves and rubbed her hands together briskly to warm them.

“What’s that?” she said, glancing across at him.

“You have never looked lovelier than you do right now,” he said warmly.

It was true. Her cheeks were rosy, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness. She smiled at him, and his heart did a somersault. God, she was lovely. He leaned across and kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose, and she felt a warm glow spread through her body, banishing the cold.

She had felt the chemistry the first time she had seen him, nearly six weeks before. They had been at an unspeakably dull card party. She had wandered desultorily from table to table, restless and praying for the evening to be over. Then their eyes had met across the room, and her life had changed forever. He had felt it too and they had drifted towards each other, magnetic north and south pulled irresistibly together. He had abandoned his game, they had spent the evening chatting, and by the end of it she had been certain of a new friend, at least. The next day he had called to the house and begged leave to court her. Since then they had spent as much time as they could together.