“Yes, Le Pellerin, near Nantes. He was older and I didn’t know him, but I knew his family when I was a boy.” Baptiste gave a very Gallic shrug. “That connection was the basis for my friendship with Lord Fendall. He liked hearing tales of the village, which he had visited several times as a child. I liked that we shared some history. It did not occur to me that he was not to be trusted until it was too late.”
“I suppose they were after wealth and power.”
“Exactly. I don’t know the details,” Baptiste said, “but great estates in France and vast wealth were promised to both of them.”
“Did you know the Frenchman who was killed at the club?”
“I didn’t meet the men Swinnerton brought that night. But Fouché would have insisted on having some of his men in the group to look out for his interests.”
It sounded as if Baptiste’s involvement with the conspiracy had been minor. “The kidnappers included two Frenchmen, and also two boxers. One looked enough like me to play my corpse.”
Baptiste blanched again. “When I came out and saw the bodies and Lord Kirkland said you’d been killed . . .”
It sounded as if Baptiste had suffered mightily for his sins. Mac couldn’t bring himself to regret that, given the consequences of the other man’s mistake. “When you realized that there was trouble afoot, why didn’t you report it to the authorities?”
“Who could I have spoken to without getting into even more trouble?” Baptiste asked cynically.
“You could have talked to Kirkland.”
“To be honest, I always thought of him as a dilettante who enjoyed having an interest in the club without having to do any real work.” Baptiste’s brow furrowed. “I underestimated him.”
That was an understatement of massive proportions, but Baptiste really couldn’t be blamed for taking Kirkland at face value. Kirkland worked hard to appear negligible.
“Besides,” Baptiste continued, “though I was appalled that two men had died, I didn’t know until tonight that the girl they were after was Princess Charlotte.”
“I certainly never expected her to come to Damian’s in disguise,” Mac agreed. “Did you know that Swinnerton failed?”
“No, Fendall didn’t say anything about that night, and I didn’t want to ask. I just wanted them to leave me alone. They did until Swinnerton said I must come down here and speak to some Frenchman who had crossed the Channel.”
“He wanted to shock you with my presence.” Mac’s shivering wasn’t quite as bad, though he was still cold right down to his marrow.
Baptiste gave him a level look. “Are you going to have me arrested?”
Mac sighed. “You saved my life twice tonight, so I don’t think I should send you to be hanged.”
Baptiste looked relieved. “I thought you would be furious.”
“I am, but if you’re clapped into prison, who will manage the damned club?”
The other man gasped. “You will allow me to keep my position?”
“It’s hard to find a good manager I can trust.” Mac’s eyes narrowed. “I will be able to trust you in the future, won’t I?”
“
Oui.
Yes. Always.” Baptiste drew a shuddering breath. “England has been my refuge. I would never knowingly have worked against her.”
Mac believed that. The bait Fendall had offered would have turned most men’s heads. “In another week, I’ll either be dead for real or will be able to miraculously return to life. Go back to London and pretend nothing has happened.”
Baptiste closed his eyes, shock and relief rippling across his face. “You are . . . generous.”
“You made a huge error in judgment, but your betrayal was not deliberate.” And there was the small matter of Baptiste’s saving his life. “But for now, get out of my sight.”
“I shall.” Baptiste handed him a silver flask. “Cognac. Your horse is out in the paddock. Shall I saddle it before I leave?”
“That would be good.” Mac was glad that Baptiste had thought about transportation back to Dover, since Mac’s concentration was on keeping himself from falling apart until he was alone.
He opened the flask and drank, allowing himself only a mouthful. The spirit burned all the way down his throat, creating at least the illusion of warmth. Feeling too tired to stand any longer, he slumped into one of the chairs beside the card table. From the cards he could see, it looked like Baptiste had been winning.
“Is there anything I can do to stop the conspirators?” Baptiste asked.
“Tell Rupert that I’m dead and my body is food for the fishes. Look normal so he and Fendall won’t feel the need to change their plans.” Mac took another swig of brandy and debated whether to have Baptiste deliver a message to Kirkland. No, Mac could be there almost as soon, and it would be better not to expose Kirkland’s work. “Put more coal on the fire before you leave.”
Baptiste obeyed, the coal rattling in the scoop, then an increase in light and heat. “
Merci, mon ami,
” he said quietly, adding a few more words in French that Mac didn’t catch. Then the sound of footsteps leaving the cave, and Mac was blessedly alone.
He needed to head back to London and tell Kirkland about the plot, but first he had to recover enough for the journey. Steam was rising gently from his saturated garments. Howard’s clothes were dry, except for the blood. Mac’s stomach turned at the thought of stripping the smuggler’s body.
Telling himself the garments would be too small anyhow, he crossed his arms on the card table and rested his head on them. He’d warm up and get some rest, then off to Dover and London. . . .
Chapter 39
Despite Kiri’s clawing anxiety about Mackenzie, she let Will Masterson lead the way down the path to the cave. Not only was he as anxious as she was, but years as a serving officer made him well suited for going into unknown territory.
They left their horses in the small meadow that the smugglers used for a paddock. The presence of another saddled horse suggested that there was at least one person in the hideout, maybe more.
Will had a pistol at the ready while Kiri had her knife. The wind blew spray into their faces from the incoming tide as they covered the last stretch. Kiri’s heart pounded like a trip hammer as they entered the cave. Please, God, let Mackenzie be alive!
Light and smoke emerged from the main cave, but no sound. Will made a hand motion for her to stay near the entrance while he moved forward. She ignored that and stayed right behind him.
He cocked his pistol and held it ready as he stepped into the main chamber. The broad, powerful body that was so much like Mackenzie’s blocked her view. Limned by firelight, Will turned his head, his gaze raking the cave for possible danger.
“
Damian!
” Will uncocked his pistol and slammed it into his holster as he sprinted across the cavern.
Kiri’s heart clenched as she saw the solid figure slumped lifelessly over a table by the fire. Then Mackenzie raised his head, startled into wakefulness.
“Will?” he said incredulously. He lurched to his feet, battered, bruised, and bloody. He looked like a very large, handsome drowned rat. But unmistakably alive.
Will grabbed his brother in a crushing bear hug. “You have
got
to stop getting yourself into these situations!”
“
Damn,
Will.” Mackenzie returned the bear hug. “It’s good to have a big brother to rescue me.”
“Doesn’t look like you needed much rescuing.”
Kiri followed Will’s gaze and saw a crumpled body on the floor. Apparently she and Will had been right to be worried.
Mackenzie grimaced. “Not my handiwork. How the devil did you find me?”
“She brought me here.” Will nodded toward Kiri, who had stayed by the entrance during the brothers’ reunion.
Mackenzie pivoted and stared at her as if she were an angel descended from on high. “Kiri?” he said huskily. “Is that really you or am I still dreaming?”
“In person.” Half a dozen steps brought her into his arms and absurdly close to tears. “I
told
you that you shouldn’t come down here alone!”
He was soaking wet and deathly cold, but still strong enough to embrace her so tightly that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men would have trouble separating them. “It was a near run thing, Kiri. I . . . I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
Thinking they should not expose themselves so thoroughly to Will, Kiri managed to step away. As she did, she got a clearer view of the body. “Howard!” she said with revulsion. “Did he attack you because you helped me escape?”
“That was part of the reason he forged Hawk’s handwriting to get me down here, but he was also being paid by the conspirators,” Mackenzie said wearily. “Give me a moment to get my thoughts clear and I’ll give you the whole story.”
“I brought a change of clothing,” Will said. “I’ll get my saddlebags so you can get into something dry before you freeze to death. Do you want me to dispose of this fellow’s body on the way?”
Kiri turned away with a shudder. “If you don’t mind. Quite apart from trying to murder your brother, he was in favor of gang raping and killing me.”
“I hope he doesn’t give the fish indigestion.” Will lifted Howard under the arms and dragged him from the cave, efficiently avoiding getting bloodstains on himself.
As soon as he was out of sight, Mackenzie drew Kiri into his arms again. “You have a faint scent of Eau de Fish,” she breathed against his throat as she pressed herself full length against him. “Will any other smugglers be coming?”
“It’s the wrong phase of the moon for their work. Will you help me warm up?” He kissed her with desperate hunger, his hands roving down her back and over her buttocks. Though his lips were cold, she warmed them quickly.
If not for the knowledge that Will would return in a few minutes, Kiri would rip Mackenzie’s cold, wet garments off so she could
really
warm him up. Relief and passion were a heady mixture.
They managed to separate before Will reappeared. Kiri suspected that he was deliberately making enough noise to warn them.
Will tossed a small saddlebag to Mackenzie. “Lucky we’re the same size. I haven’t any spare boots, but the sooner you get out of your wet clothes, the better.”
“I’ll build up the fire and see if I can find the makings for tea,” Kiri said. “And I promise I’ll keep my back turned.” She wouldn’t mind seeing Mackenzie naked, but this seemed a good time to maintain the proprieties.
Will reached inside his coat and pulled out a packet. “Tea. I have sugar also. No milk since that’s too hard to carry.”
She laughed as she caught the tea. “Which of you first came up with the idea of the greatcoat as supply train?”
The brothers looked at each other and grinned. “I did,” Mackenzie said. “Then we started competing to find who could carry the most strange and useful items, and we both decided that all the hidden pockets were too useful to forfeit.”
Kiri looked hopefully at Will. “Do you have anything to eat?”
He pulled out a flat, paper-wrapped packet. “As a matter of fact, I do have some cheese. It’s the easiest and most efficient food to carry around.”
Mackenzie seized the packet and swiftly unwrapped it. “I didn’t mind so much being fed bread and cheese. The real problem is that they didn’t feed me enough of it.”
“Eat it all if you like,” Will said. “Kiri and I got a quick meal in Dover.”
Ostentatiously giving Mackenzie privacy, Kiri tossed more coal on the fire to revive it. Then she investigated an alcove she’d noticed when she was being held prisoner here. As she’d guessed, it was used as a storage area, with crude shelves that held cooking pots of various sizes, a few pieces of cutlery, and chipped plates and mugs. Nothing to eat or drink, but there was a half-full water barrel. No doubt the smugglers had womenfolk who made sure that their men had the basic domestic necessities.
She could hear rustling and squishy wet clothing sounds as she filled a kettle from the water barrel and hung it over the fire. By the time she straightened and brushed her hands off, the men had joined her.
Mackenzie looked considerably better now that he was wearing clean, dry garments. He also had on his brother’s greatcoat. On his feet were only heavy wool socks. He set his saturated boots by the fire, then sank into one of the chairs. “You have more domestic skills than I would expect of a duke’s daughter.”
“I’m also a soldier’s daughter, and when we traveled, I was always visiting the soldiers’ campfires and learning things that would probably have scandalized the general.” The water started to boil, so Kiri used some to warm the chipped brown teapot before adding tea leaves and pouring water on top. “I’m sure my mother knew what I was up to, but she’s a practical woman who thinks all skills are worthwhile.”
“Amen to that,” Mackenzie said. “Will, you’re the artillery expert. Is it possible to explode something like a mattress without anyone noticing before it went off?”
Will found a third crude chair and brought it close to the fire so they could all sit as they drank the tea Kiri poured for them. “The bomb itself is easy. Any kind of hard shell, like a cast-iron naval bomb or even a ceramic crock, could be used by filling it with gunpowder. Pieces of sharpened metal could be added if you want to cut people to shreds. The difficult part would be lighting a fuse without having it be noticed.”
Kiri sucked in her breath. “A mattress . . . Are you thinking a bomb might be put in the Woolsack, that big red ottoman that sits just below the royal throne in the House of Lords? I saw it when Adam took us on a private tour of the Palace of Westminster.”
“The Woolsack is large enough to hold several bombs,” Will said. “Princess Charlotte plans to attend the State Opening, and she would probably be seated right on the Woolsack. But it would be difficult for the conspirators to set off the bomb in a chamber full of people who would surely notice a burning fuse.”
“I had far too much time to think about this,” Mackenzie said grimly. “The fuse could be concealed by drilling holes in the floor underneath the Woolsack. What’s underneath in the cellars? Storage rooms and the like?”
“I believe that’s all,” Will said. “But ever since the Gunpowder Plot, the Beefeaters search the cellars before every State Opening. Wouldn’t they notice a fuse?”
“The Gunpowder Plot involved three dozen barrels of gunpowder, which are hard to miss,” Mackenzie pointed out. “This is much simpler. Come in at night, move the Woolsack, and drill a hole into the cellar. Insert your bomb into the underside of the Woolsack, thread a long fuse through the hole, and move the Woolsack back into position. Go down into the cellar and pin the fuse along a filthy old beam. Who would notice?”
Will looked stricken. “Then wait until the chamber is filled during the ceremony, light the fuse from below, and escape before anyone realizes what happened.”
Kiri asked, “Wouldn’t people smell the burning gunpowder of the fuse?”
“Most of the smell would be confined to the cellar,” Will said. “In the last moments before the bomb exploded, there might be some of that sharp scent, but in such a crowd, it’s not likely anyone would notice in time to act. Clearing a crowded chamber of noblemen and politicians is slow even at the best of times.”
“One bomb going off inside the Woolsack would kill the prince regent, Princess Charlotte, the prime minister, and most of the rest of the government ministers, not to mention half the peerage of England,” Mackenzie said soberly.
“Including Adam,” Kiri whispered. Her desire to protect the royal princess was powerful, but her brother was
family.
“Dukes sit right up front. I’d be a little farther away if I take my seat, as I meant to,” Will said. “But the plotters will have trouble getting a bomb into the chamber.”
“Not if the chief conspirator is a lord.” Mackenzie let Kiri empty the last of the tea into his mug. “I’d better back up and explain. Rupert Swinnerton and Lord Fendall are half brothers, and their mother was sister to the mother of Joseph Fouché.”
After shocked silence, Will whistled softly. “That explains a great deal.”
“Thank heaven we can get to London quickly enough tomorrow to arrest all the conspirators and have them safely locked up before the State Opening.”
Kiri bit her lip. “The State Opening
is
tomorrow.”
Mackenzie choked on his tea. “Damnation! I lost track of a day while I was here. We need to head for London
now!
”
“Tell us all you’ve learned while we finish our tea,” Will ordered. “Then we’ll ride to Dover and hire the fastest post chaise we can find. The main ceremony starts about midday, so we should have enough time.”
“But none to spare,” Mackenzie said grimly. “Here’s what I’ve learned. . . .”