Surrender The Night (45 page)

Jack, however, was almost foaming at the mouth with rage. “Who’s the sneakin’, traitorous bastard what set me up? Those men come for me!” He grabbed sleeves to glare into each face, but he apparently didn’t see guilt. He whirled and stomped away to begin dragging cargo ashore.

“But I don’t understand. Why weren’t they after all of us?” Katrina asked. It
had
seemed as though they’d only pursued Jack.

Paulie answered, “Them wasn’t revenuers. They was army. Jack kelled a French officer who was veseten’ in London. He deserted rather than faace charges. That’s why he come to Cornwall from England.”

Ahh . . . This was apparently an open secret among the men. Any of them could have laid that trap. But why? They seemed content to let Jack lead them on the runs. Katrina stared into the distance, but a movement caught her eye. She looked up.

At the top of the cliff she saw a figure silhouetted against the fitful moonlight. A hat shielded the face; a cloak flapped in the breeze. She could distinguish little except that the form seemed tall. Something in its menacing stillness trumpeted anger, even at the distance. Katrina leaped to her feet and opened her mouth to give the alarm, but the figure turned. With a fluttering whirl of cape it disappeared.

Katrina sat back down, frowning. Something told her she’d just seen Jack’s tormentor. If her suspicions proved correct, he was also the leader of the whole enterprise. Like a spider in his web he manipulated men at his will, even lords like Carrington. But why would he want Jack out of the way?

Who could it be? Who in the district besides Carrington possessed the crafty drive necessary to plan so many bold operations? Could it be Davie? His illness had certainly come at a convenient time. The memory of the way he’d threatened her still rankled.

The new puzzle occupied Katrina as Paulie drove her home, the back of his wagon loaded. She was bone weary when they finally reached the cottage, but she refused Paulie’s offer to see her inside.

“Where is Davie?”

‘‘Laaid up seek,” Paulie answered. “’Ee should have your share en a few daays.” He offered one of his rare smiles. “ ’Ee ded well, girlie. Most women would have faainted dead at bein’ fired upon.”

Katrina shrugged and covered a yawn. “I might have if I’d been a bit less tired.” She returned his smile and entered the gate. The wagon rattled away.

Katrina was reaching for the door handle when a hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed her wrist. She drew breath to scream, but another hand covered her mouth. She was dragged, kicking, away from the cottage to the riverbanks, far enough from the house that she knew her screams wouldn’t be heard. “Make a peep and I’ll knock ye senseless.”

In other circumstances Katrina would have been terrified, but Jack’s voice was edgy rather than husky with lust. She nodded.

Warily he let her go, but took the precaution of clasping her wrist. ‘ ‘Do ye know who tried to trap me tonight?’ ’

“No.” When his eyes narrowed in a mean glare, she added hastily, “Truly I don’t. I did, however, see someone standing on the cliff watching us as we unloaded tonight. He was too far away for me to see clearly, but I sensed . . . anger. Frustra
tion. He wanted you caught very badly. Despite the fact we haven’t seen eye to eye, I’m glad you escaped.”

The sympathy in her voice shined from her eyes. Jack let her go and shook his head ruefully. “I’d be a mean sort indeed to keep pursuin’ ye after that. Ye can go, missy. I’ll follow ye no more. Ye should know that we didn’t plan to . . . take ye when we took ye today. The man wanted ye away from yer pretty lordling. He paid me to do it, and blackmailed Car
rington by threatenen’ to turn him in.”

“I
see. Thank you for telling me. That, at least, makes sense. But why does he care whom I see?”

“He wants ye, lass. Badly.”

Katrina was stunned, and she barely heard Jack’s next comment.

“I only come here tonight because I thought he might have told ye what he planned. Them notes ye was makin’ seemed mighty . . . suspicious.”

“You know who sent the men after you, then?”

“As sure as I’m standin’ here. What I don’t know is what to do about it.” Jack paced restlessly, his foot scuffing a rock out of his way.

“Jack, I don’t understand why you think this person would confide in me.”             

Stopping, he turned to peer at her. “Ye really don’t know who leads us, do ye?”

“I’ve no idea. I thought it was Carrington for a while, but now
...”
She shrugged. “One thing I do know, however, is that he’s a cheat.”

Jack stiffened. “What do ye mean?”

After a brief hesitation Katrina admitted, “I’ve been keeping a record of our contraband. Three loads now, our shares have been short. I think whoever is heading the distribution is keeping some of the goods for himself.”

Jack slammed a fist into his palm. “The sneaken’ bastard! I suspected it me ownself. I just didn’t want to believe it.” He approached Katrina and
took her shoulders in his hands. “Will ye stand by me, lass if I go to the men? Have ye the papers to prove ye right?”

“Yes, Jack. On both counts.” After he patted her shoulders she pulled away. “On one condition. I want to know who is responsible for all of this.”

Jack sighed. “It’d be best for ye if ye didn’t know. I suspect that’s why he tried to get rid o’ me.”

Stroking her elbows to quell her own fears, Katrina said steadily, “But I must kno
w. What if something happens to you?”

Jack stepped back from her, rubbing his chin. Finally he nodded. “Ye be right, lass. It’s—” A flash ignited from the hedge to their left simultaneous to the shot. Jack didn’t even have time to groan, or to clutch his shattered heart. He dropped soundlessly to the ground, his eyes still open.

Katrina screamed, and screamed again. She dropped to her knees beside Jack, vaguely aware of running footsteps. Shakily she felt for Jack’s pulse, and was not surprised when she found none. She bowed her head and covered her face with her hands, muttering, “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t insisted—” Then the tears came.

That was how Jimmy found her a few minutes later. Soon after, John hobbled up on his crutches. “Lass, what es et? We heard a shot and saw ’ee standen’ here—” He broke off when he spied the figure on the ground.

“Jimmy, fetch the magistrate.” John lifted Katrina to her feet and drew her to his good side. “There, lass, don’t keep a saayen’ that. How’s it your fault?”

, ‘ ‘Oh John, everything’s such a mess. ’ ’ In a garbled rush the whole sorry story tumbled out. The missing goods, the fight with Devon, everything.

“There, there, girl, et’s too laate to worry about et now. Come along. I’ll maake ’ee a hot cuppa. En the momen’ we’ll talk more.”

When morning dawned after a few short hours of sleep for Katrina, however, she found no opportunity to talk to John. First Will visited, arriving just after Katrina sat down to breakfast.

“I heard the news, Katrina. Are you all right?” Will appraised her anxiously.

“I’m fine.” But Katrina played with her food, not sampling a bite. She pushed her plate back and rested her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. ‘ ‘The mere scent of food makes me nauseous. I keep remembering—” She cupped her hands over her mouth and leaped up to run out the back.

Those still at table heard her retching.

“Why be ’ee here Will?” John asked, an unwontedly hard note in his voice.

Will looked slightly offended. “I was but concerned for Katrina when I heard she watched a man killed.” He frowned as he stared at the door where Katrina had disappeared.

“How ded ’ee hear that?”

“It’s common news around Redruth. I imagine the magis
trate told someone. I heard it on my first round this morning.”

“Ded ’ee?” John tamped tobacco into his clay pipe. His brown eyes were veiled by smoke as he lit the pipe and took a deep draw. “A mite early for rounds, esn’t et?”

Slamming his palms down on the table, Will rose. “What the devil are you hinting at, John?”

Katrina stumbled back in before John could answer.

Will supported her to the table. When his arm brushed her breast, she winced. His steps faltered, then continued. When she was sitting, he asked, ‘ ‘How long have you been sick like this?”

“This is the first time. I think it’s because of last night.” She shuddered and collapsed onto the bench. “But I feel better now. In fact I’m starved.” She rescued her abandoned plate and speared a large chunk of cooling egg.

Will’s eyes never left her. Those blue depths no longer looked celestial, as Katrina would have noticed had she been watching.

John was. He raised an eyebrow when Will bolted to his feet.

“Must be off. A deal to do today.” Will hurried out the door in such a rush that he forgot his hat. He didn’t return Katrina’s good-bye.

“Katrina,” John began. A knock sounded at the door Will had just closed. John sighed as Rachel led the magistrate into the kitchen.

He questioned Katrina for well over an hour. She was little help, since she’d not seen the killer, and she was stymied by the fact that she had to hedge about the details of her last conversation with Jack.

When the magistrate became more insistent, John broke in. “She’s told ’ee all she knows. Let the poor lass alone. How many have ’ee babbled thes to?”

Squashing his hat on his head, the magistrate rose. He nodded curtly. “I’ve told no one, yet. Just as well. You’ve given me precious little to pursue.” He tromped out.

“Phist! ’Ee’d thenk ’ee’d done the deed, the waay he acted.” John shook his head disapprovingly.

‘ ‘I might as well have. I think the killer heard our conversation and knew Jack was about to reveal his identity.” Katrina stared blindly at her empty plate.

“Have ’ee thought of who et es?”

“I’ve thought of little else. But for the life of me—”

“Who does ’ee know who’s neither working class nor gentry, who knows everyone in the district and yet has contacts in London?”

Slowly Katrina raised her head. “Why no one. Except—” Her eyes widened. She gasped. “Not Will!”

“I fear so, lass. 1 dedn’t want to believe et myself, but today he just proved et. How ded he know of the kellen’ ef the magestrate dedn’t tell of et?”

Katrina croaked, “Will’s not capable of such violence.” Yet she felt as if blinders had been ripped from her eyes. The many memories she’d pushed to the back of her mind paraded before her eyes. Will’s statement that sometimes blood must be spilled when diplomacy couldn’t serve; the distaste Jem had shown in refusing to accept charity from Will; his presence among the mob that had descended on Devon; his cruelty to his horses when he was in a rage; the unexplained prosperity he’d attributed to an inheritance. The clues had all been there, awaiting her. She’d refused to see them because she didn’t want to believe the dear friend who’d saved her life had a darker side to his sunny nature.

Katrina covered her mouth, feeling nausea rising again. “Oh Will, how could you?” she whispered despairingly.

Patting her arm, John encouraged, “Et’s good ’ee know the truth. I quit liken’ Will when he tried to manipulaate ’ee.”

“That’s why he quit coming around, isn’t it? You no longer made him welcome.” Katrina’s mouth tightened in self
disgust. “And I was so self-absorbed I never even considered why.”

“
Eee had the right, lass. Don’t be angry at yourself.”

Anger
was
stirring in Katrina, but not at herself. Her nausea subsided. Her skin tingled with renewed life. She leaped to her feet. “Well, he’s not going to get away with it any longer. I’m going into Truro to get the magistrate.”

John rose, too. “I’m comen’ weth ’ee. We’ll tie the ox to the cart and both ride.”

It wasn’t until she’d run upstairs to freshen up and fetch her shawl that Katrina realized she had a far more important reason to see Will behind bars than to promote justice. Her fingers froze around the ends of her shawl. Devon! Will would go after Devon next. Somehow she knew it.

Katrina ran down the stairs, almost tripping in her haste. She was so busy visualizing the horror of what Will could do to Devon that she had no time to consider the physical changes in her body. When she had time for reflection, she’d wonder at the tenderness in her breasts, the illness followed by hunger. At the moment, however, she was too scared to consider that a man who stooped to murder wouldn’t think twice about lying. . . .

Chapter Fifteen

After making his
accusation against Carrington, Devon had waited while men searched Carrington’s manor. Hours later the magistrate called him in to Truro again for more questions. However, the man was summarily interrupted when his servant entered.

“There’s a lad here who says a murder’s been committed.” The magistrate, a bluff, hearty man unused to crimes more severe than theft and drunken disorder, cursed.

‘ ‘I regret the inconvenience, my lord, but I must request that you await in town until I return.”

Devon grimaced and shifted wearily on his hard chair. “Very well. I’ll put up at the Red Lion Inn.”

The magistrate nodded and hurried from the room, straightening the clothes he’d thrown on for Devon’s benefit.

As Devon rode to the inn his spirits were the lowest he could remember since finding Katrina. Had God reunited them against such odds only to split them apart? He almost doubled over at the pain incited by the thought. Once, not long ago, he would have stoically borne his own humors alone, good or bad. Now, however, he was not ashamed to admit the emotional need for someone to talk
to. He thought of the one man who truly understood him, who’d been his best, indeed his only, friend, for more years than he cared to count.

“Fetch Billy to me, Henry,” he told his coachman upon alighting.

When Billy arrived an hour later, he found Devon sitting in a Spartan chamber, brooding out the window.

Billy stopped cold. “What’s amiss?”

Devon replied without turning his head. ‘ ‘Everything. Katrina won’t give up her smuggling, she uses me like a stud and accepts sexual favors but shuns my hand.” He laughed shortly. “A dubious honor, perhaps, but one she wanted badly. At one time. I wouldn’t have her, then. Now she won’t have me.” He laughed louder.

Billy winced at the sound. “Can ye not accept what she gives ye?”

“I thought I could. But it’s not enough. I can’t bear the way people talk of her, look at her.” Devon propped his elbows on his knees and cupped his aching head in his hands. “God, it’s so ironic it’s laughable. Two years ago I didn’t even understand how I dishonored her; now I do, largely because she taught me, and she seeks her own ruin when I would offer her all I possess.” He shook his head. “Billy, what the hell am I to do?”

After a brief hesitation Billy strode to his friend and laid a big hand on his tense shoulder. He expected to be thrown off, as he had been so often in the past, but Devon only sighed and patted his hand in thanks. “It’s against me instincts, but if ye try once more to get the lassie to tell ye what happened, and she won’t
...”

Devon’s head bobbed up.

‘ ‘I will. Use all yer wiles on her, Devvie lad. It would be best if she told ye. But one way or another ye’ll understand why she acts as she does.”

“Thank God. That’s been the torment of it, Billy. Not understanding what’s so awful to drive us apart when we love one another.” Devon jumped up, buoyed by renewed hope. “This time she’ll not deny me.”

Billy turned away so Devon wouldn’t see the doubt in his face.

The next morning, after a hasty, insipid breakfast, Devon and Billy exited to return to the magistrate’s. They stopped when they spied the coach nearby, but they didn’t see Henry.

Devon frowned. “I told him to meet us at nine.” He strode out into the street to look both ways. Some distance away a group of men congregated on the intersection of two of Truro’s busiest districts. Shops of every description crowded the lanes.

They were too far away for Devon to understand their words, but several men were shaking their fists in anger, and
Devon could hear rage in the raised voices. His eyes narrowed on a familiar figure at the edge of the crowd. “Come along, Billy. Henry’s up the street.” Devon walked toward the men, unaware of the opening door behind him.

Two shops down, Will Farrow exited from the greengro
cer’s, his arms loaded with supplies. He stopped short when he saw Devon walk past. His blue eyes glazed with icy hatred. He looked toward the angry voices, then hurried to his carriage and threw the goods he’d purchased inside.

‘ ‘Wait for me up the street, and be ready to depart quickly,’ ’ he ordered his coachman. He set his hat at a confident angle, then, wearing his usual calm demeanor, he followed Devon.

Katrina bit her lip to deny the urge to lash the oxen. “I could have walked more quickly,” she grumbled.

They’d come from Devon’s manor and were now on their way to Truro. Some of Katrina’s anxiety had eased when Devon’s servant told them that he’d not come back from the magistrate’s and had sent for Billy to join him.

Surely Will wouldn’t try anything with so many potential witnesses. No, he’d wait until Devon was alone upon the moors. As he’d waited for Jack. Katrina pushed away the memory and clucked to the oxen.

“We’ll be there any moment, lass. Calm down. Ef et ’tweren’t for thes blasted leg—”

Katrina forced herself to take a calming breath. “You’re lucky to still have it.
I’m sorry to be so impatient.” Hurry, please, she soundlessly begged the plodding beasts. The bright morning was an odd ambience for disaster, but Katrina felt it hovering over her head like a grim portent. . . .

Devon stopped when he heard what the men were saying.

“Blood suckers, one and all. They sell their co
rn outside just for a few pennies more, and don’t care that their fellow Cornishmen staarve.”

“Ais, et’s more than a body can bear, to see hes cheldren cryen’ from hunger.” The man, who wore a miner’s working clothes, added, “The bals have been my leven’, and my da’s and grandda’s, too, and could be my son’s ef et weren’t for these blasted foreigners.”

A
grizzled, rough-hewn miner hawked and spat his agreement. “They put their money en many mines so as to spread their resk. What do they caare, up en London, when we die because they won’t maake the bals saafe? Or ef we push ourselves to seckness tryen’ to produce more and more so they won’t close us down?”

A soft voice agreed from the back of the crowd, “ ’Tis true. I’ve seen more men than I c
are to remember die because of the likes of him!” Will pushed to the head of the crowd and whirled to point an accusing finger at Devon.

Everyone turned. Some recognized Devon. One man agreed, “He bought Carrington’s bal. He
says
he’s goen’ to reopen et after he puts en a new pump.
...”
The words sank like stones into the heavy silence, each plunk proclaiming doubt.

Inwardly flinching, Devon reacted only by a raised eyebrow. He’d opened his mouth to retort when Farrow continued.

“More empty promises. I, for one, am tired of the gentry living like kings on our sweat and toil.” Angry agreement was shouted from every quarter. Will raised his voice, warming to his subject. “They may own our source of livelihood, but they don’t own our pride. Right, men? And if blood must be spilled to prove we’ll not be taken advantage of any longer, then so be it!”

Will grabbed up one of the staves the men had torn from the sides of the miller’s emporium they’d intended to attack. Others followed suit, but one of the men who’d been present during the confrontation at Devon’s manor held out a staying hand.

“No, et ain’t that waay. He’s brought engeneers en to the bal, truly—”

If he was heard, the men ignored him. Fear had fed their frustration for months; here was meat for their fury. This man represented everything they hated. By striking a blow at him they’d rebel against all the injustices they’d suffered. And overhead, the skeletal specter of death hovered, slavering in appetite. ...

“Holy hell, let’s get out of here,” Billy hissed, trying to pull Devon back from the surging tide of men.

Devon shrugged him off. He didn’t
notice when Billy ran to the carriage, for his eyes were fixed on Will Farrow. Devon had made many enemies in his lifetime, but never had he seen such twisted hatred on a human face. He’d listened to Farrow with almost the same sense of revelation as the men, for with every vile lie, understanding dawned.

Why hadn’t they seen it before? Who had better contacts in the district than Will Farrow? Who else in the district besides Carrington knew people in London? He’d never been able to picture Phillip working closely with Jack Hennessy, but Farrow? That was another matter. Most telling of all Farrow had a prime motivation to embezzle the spoils: Katrina. He’d do whatever necessary to win the woman he craved. Stealing was only the first step; murdering the rival was next.

Be damned to him! Devon held out his hands and cried, “Wait!”

The men hesitated, then those in the back, who would not have to strike the first blow, pushed the leaders forward.

Devon swallowed, but he held his ground.

Billy pounded back to Devon’s side, pointed the carriage pistol in the air, and fired.

The mob stopped cold.

Devon took quick advantage. ‘ ‘I understand your frustration, but killing an earl will buy you naught but more trouble.”

“Who’s to saay which of us kelled ’ee? They can’t hang us all.” The brave soul in back who’d spoken pushed at the men in front of him.

“Come on, men, don’t be fooled by his lies,” Will urged, taking a step forward.

A few matched him, but more hesitated. Devon couldn’t have said anything better calculated to give them pause. Self-preservation was a powerful inducement to rationality.

“Lies, is it
, Will Farrow? Mine? Or yours?” This time it was Devon who pointed an accusing finger in deliberate imitation of Will’s drama.

Will nodded at Billy, who was hastily reloading. “It’s just a diversion for his man. Don’t give him time—”

“You scurvy bastard, why don’t you meet me like a man on a field of honor instead of inciting a mob to do your dirty work?” Devon’s own anger took hold. His hands clenched and unclenched.

Even those in front paused now. They couldn’t see Will’s face, but they caught the tension in his stiff shoulders. And the fury that was reddening the lord’s face seemed genuine. They waited, the staves sagging to the ground as they watched.

“You there.” Devon nodded. “And you.” He jerked his head in another direction. “You’ve worked in the free trade with my woman, Katrina Lawson. Did you know that the man who heads your raids is leading you now to doom?”

“He lies—” Will tried to say, but Devon cut him off ruthlessly.

“And did you know that he’s been stealing from you for months? Why do you think your shares have been less than you expected?”

The smugglers gasped and stared at Will.

Will turned to face the men. Despite his apparent calm, sweat gathered on his brow. “He’s lying to save himself.” When the smugglers still stared at him, tom between doubt and fury. Will blurted, “Who will you believe? This . . . outsider, or one of your own?”

Silence descended over the crowd. The men looked from Will, to Devon, then back.

Devon watched their faces. He opened his mouth to feed their uncertainty, but a new voice interrupted.

“It’s true,” Katrina called, running from the wagon to Devon’s side.

All eyes turned to her as, deliberately, she took Devon’s hand. “I’ve got the proof at home. I’ve been keeping a record for some time—” Her words became garbled as Devon covered her mouth with his hand.

He nodded at the magistrate, who was puffing his way up the street. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. He sent hard looks at several of the men. “I’ll have none of your trouble- making this day. I’ve got a murder to solve. Get along home with you.”

No one budged. One of the smugglers in the lead said stubbornly, “We got a right to be here ef we please.” He turned on Will. “Well, Farrow? What have ’ee to saay?”

Will shrugged distastefully. “Of course
she’d
lie for him.” He crossed his arms over his chest and said coolly, ‘ ‘Believe what you will. But there’s hardly a man among you I haven’t bandaged or stitched up.”

At the truth of the comment the men shifted their feet guiltily.

John had hobbled on his cane into their midst in time to hear the last few statements. “Ais, and me too. I’d be en my graave without ’ee, Will Farrow.” He drew a deep sigh. “And et’s sorry I am to have to saay thes, but I cannot turn my head aside any longer. There’s a vast defference ’tween smuggling and murder.”

“Murder?” The word blasted through the crowd like a whirlwind, collecting impetus as it went from man to man.

“Now see here Tonkin, this is my business—”

John barely spared the magistrate a glance as he continued, “Will came to me only thes momen’ to ask how Katrina was after Jack Hennessy’s murder. She were there, last night, when Jack were shot in the heart.”

“Jack? Dead?” Several of the men stepped back in shock. Even those who hadn’t known him, knew of him. They shook their heads in regret.

“I dedn’t thenk anyone knew yet. And ef he”—John jerked his head at the magistrate—“dedn’t tell nobody; how ded Will know? And Jack was kelled just as he were about to tell Katrina who heads the, er; dispersal.” He glanced at the magistrate, but that worthy stared at Will.