The Sinister Spinster (27 page)

" Yer grace, wot the bloody devil—" he began, his gruff voice a mixture of annoyance and confusion.

"Get off the carriage, Kelmont, if you will," the duke said, his voice as steady as the pistol he trained on the door of the coach. "Maneuver three."

The coachman wasted no time with words. Both he and the tiger riding behind him scrambled down from the box with considerable dexterity and ran to the cover offered by the hedgerows. When they turned back the coachman had a pistol in each hand.

Before Adam could comment on this amazing sight he heard a pistol shot ring out, and his heart stopped when he realized it had come from the carriage.

"Elizabeth!" He roared out her name, dismounting and running toward the coach on unsteady legs. Before he could reach it the door opened, and a flurry of skirts and women came tumbling out. He saw Elizabeth and Elinore struggling with Lady Barrington, but because they were locked together it was impossible for him to get off a clean shot without risking the lives of all three women. He tucked the pistol back into his waistband and dove into the pile, emerging with the duchess in his grip. He rolled to his feet, hauling her up with him and unceremoniously thrusting her into Creshton's waiting arms. When
he was certain the prisoner was secured, he turned back to Elizabeth.

His heart pounding, he gently helped her to her feet, his gaze sweeping over her as he checked her for any sign of injury.

"Elizabeth! My love, are you all right?" he demanded, and then went icy with terror when he saw the blood staining the front of her cloak.

"Oh, God! You've been shot!"

"It's not me, you idiot," she snapped, shoving him back with surprising strength. "It's Elinore!" And she dropped back to her knees beside her friend.

"It's all right," Elinore said, clasping her hand to her forearm. "The bullet merely grazed me, that is all."

"Here, poppet, let me see." The duke was kneeling beside her, his big hands shaking as he gently moved her hand to one side so he could examine her wound.

"There now," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "It's not so bad; a mere scratch, as you say. Although how I am to tell your mama about this, I know not. She will have both our heads."

"I am sorry, Papa." Elinore smiled weakly in apology. "Perhaps you could say I was injured in a carriage accident?"

"And risk her learning the truth?" His blue eyes were filled with tears as he brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across a dust-stained cheek. "I am not half so brave as that. Lie still now, dearest. We'll soon have you home."

"Yes, Papa," Elinore murmured, and fell immediately into a swoon.

"Really, such dramatics." The duchess gave a pretty laugh, and Adam and Elizabeth turned around to face her. She was standing between the coachman and Henry, her beautiful face wearing its customary expression of cool amusement. Despite the fact that her bonnet was crushed and her cloak was torn and bedraggled, her air of insouciance was such that she might have been still in the Derrings'
drawing room. When she saw him glaring at her, her lips curved in a mocking smile.

"You needn't cast daggers at me, my lord," she purred in her cultured voice. "Lady Elinore getting shot is more her fault and Miss Mattingale's than mine. They attacked me, you know."

"Only because it was the only way to stop you, you unprincipled witch!" Elizabeth snapped, shooting the duchess a furious scowl. "I hope they hang you!"

The duchess merely gave another laugh. "Oh, I daresay they will try." Her gaze moved next to Adam. "I suppose appealing to your chivalry as a gentleman would be quite useless?" she queried.

Adam thought of all the harm caused by the duchess's greed and treachery. "Quite useless," he agreed coldly.

"I thought as much," she said, clutching her reticule to her chest. "Pity. It was for money, you see. My old fool of a husband left me all but destitute, and I refused to live on the paltry sum his clutch-fisted son offered me. When I learned what the French were willing to pay for the tid-bits of information I could gather, I saw no reason why I should not oblige them. And really, is it my fault my lovers took such delight in prattling in bed? If they had kept their precious secrets to themselves, I would have had nothing to sell."

That she could blame the men she had ruined and betrayed with her greed disgusted Adam, even though he could see the truth in some of what she was saying. "That may be," he conceded reluctantly, "but that doesn't excuse the way you used Elizabeth. You pretended to be her friend even as you betrayed her."

A sad smile touched the duchess's lips. "That is what is so odd," she murmured softly, "for toward the end I did come to think of her as a friend." Her gaze went to Elizabeth.

"I knew you would be accused," she continued, her blue eyes filled with genuine regret, "but I also knew Falconer would never let you be charged. He is quite besotted
with you, and if you are half so clever as I think you are, you'll be a marchioness before the summer is ended."

"That's nonsense!" Elizabeth sputtered, going white with shock.

"Is it?" The duchess lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Perhaps. And perhaps I like to think so, merely to ease my conscience. Just as it eases my conscience to think that had you truly been clapped in gaol, I would have done the honorable thing and come forward. I suppose there is no way we shall ever know." And she pressed the reticule to her chest.

Understanding dawned and Adam rushed forward, knowing even as he began moving that he was too late. "Your grace, no—" His protest was drowned out by the report of a pistol shot, and the duchess fell to the ground.

Adam and Elizabeth reached her together, and they rolled her gently onto her back. The front of her cape was already soaked with blood, and Adam knew there was nothing anyone could do to help the traitorous duchess now. He glanced down into Lady Barrington's face and saw by her expression that she knew it as well.

"It is better this way," the duchess said, struggling for the words as she gazed up at him and Elizabeth. "I would not have enjoyed being hanged. What—what should I have worn?"

"The papers?" Adam pressed, hating the necessity of hounding a dying woman "What did you do with Derring's papers?"

"I—I sent them to London," she replied, blood coming to her lips as she coughed weakly. "There was a Russian prince with very deep pockets willing to pay for whatever I could send him. I can't recall his name, but he is with the Czar."

"Zaramoff?" Elizabeth bent lower, the duchess's hand held in hers. "Was it Zaramoff?"

An ominous rattle came from the duchess's chest as she struggled to speak. "That—that sounds right. He had
the coldest eyes . . . like death. He made me afraid . . ." She coughed again and closed her eyes, her breath and her life leaving her in a soft sigh.

"And you are not to leave that bed until the doctor says you may," Elizabeth scolded, her expression stern as she tucked the bedclothes about a sullen Elinore. "If you do, your papa has given me leave to write your mama."

A genuine pout had Elinore looking surprisingly young. "He would," she said, sulking. "And you would do it, too, I've no doubt."

"If I must," Elizabeth replied, smiling despite the sadness tugging at her. A week had passed since Lady Barrington's death, and she was still struggling to come to terms with all that had happened. There had been so many changes in her life, there were days when she felt like a bit of flotsam in the middle of a stormy sea. Even her position had changed; instead of working for Lady Derring she was now employed as Elinore's companion, a change that pleased both her and Elinore very much.

Her place of residence had also changed, as instead of carrying Elinore back to Derring Hall they had taken her to one of the duke's many country houses, located in a nearby village. Elizabeth had remained at her friend's side, nursing her through the inevitable fever that followed her injury. The duke had remained only until he was certain his beloved daughter was out of danger, and then he and Adam had departed for London. The duke had written to let them know that he would be arriving within a few days, but of Adam there hadn't been so much as a word.

"Well, once we are in London I refuse to be coddled," Elinore said, drawing Elizabeth back to the present. "If what you have told me about this odious Zaramoff person is true, we shall have a great deal to do. Any man who would support Napoleon against his own people is clearly a villain of the first water."

"He is that and more," Elizabeth assured her, relieved
to turn her thoughts to something other than her foolish longing for Adam. "And I do wish you would reconsider and let me contact Alexi. He is already working to uncover Zaramoff's treachery."

As it always did, mention of Alexi's name had Elinore muttering decidedly unladylike sentiments. "I'd as lief contact the devil himself," she said, her eyes flashing. "The devil would no doubt prove a great deal less trouble."

Elizabeth started to defend her good friend when the door opened and a heavyset lady swathed in fur and silk swept into the room, Adam trailing in her wake. Elizabeth scarce had time to register his presence before the unknown lady was swooping down on the bed and Elinore.

"You wretched, ungrateful child!" she scolded, tenderly embracing Elinore. "I let you assist your papa in his work, and this is how you repay me!"

"Mama." Elinore wrapped her good arm about her mother and gave her a reassuring hug. "I'm fine, truly I am. Whatever did Papa say to upset you so?"

"That you had been wounded by that awful Barrington woman," the duchess said, settling on the chair Elizabeth had vacated upon her entrance. "But why should I believe a word that wretch says? He also tried fobbing me off at first with some ridiculous fiction about your being hurt in a carriage accident." She glanced up at Elizabeth and smiled.

"Hello, my dear, you must be Miss Mattingale. As you may have gathered, I am this hoyden's mama, and I have a great deal to thank you for, it seems."

Elizabeth made a clumsy curtsy, her brain suddenly unable to function. "It is kind of you to say so, your grace," she said, her gaze drawn helplessly to Adam. "But I assure you I have done nothing deserving of your praise."

"Have you not?" the duchess asked, her gaze going from Elizabeth to Adam. "Well, we shall see. In the meanwhile, would you be so kind as to leave Elinore and me
for a moment? I mean to read her a thundering scold, and I really can't do that with his lordship present. Oh, and ring for some tea, will you? Traveling always makes me dreadfully thirsty. There's a dear."

Elizabeth gave a start, realizing that she'd been dismissed. She felt oddly ill at ease, longing to be with Adam and yet afraid. This would be the first time since their meeting in the drawing room that they would be alone, and she was suddenly terrified of being private with him.

"Yes, your grace," she said, hiding her reluctance as she dropped another curtsy. She glanced at Elinore, only to find her friend regarding her with what could only be termed smug satisfaction.

"Shall I see to the packing, my lady?" she asked, hoping to put some sort of distance between herself and Adam any way she could. Reminding him of her position as Elinore's companion seemed the best way, and she could only hope he would take the subtle hint.

Elinore's smile widened. "That would be fine, Elizabeth," she said, inclining her head graciously. "Thank you."

It was evident from the black scowl that immediately settled on his handsome features that the little byplay between her and Elinore had not gone unnoticed. But her hope that he would withdraw behind the rigid lines of class distinction were dashed when he grasped her firmly by the arm and marched her from the room. Ignoring her struggles and indignant protests, he led her to the upper parlor and unceremoniously thrust her inside.

"What was that business of your calling Elinore
my lady?"
he demanded, the moment the door had closed behind them. "You're not her blasted servant."

Elizabeth could only gape at him in astonishment. "Of course I am her servant!" she exclaimed. "Her ladyship was kind enough to hire me as her companion, and—"

"The devil she did!" Adam interrupted, his gold eyes flashing with temper "That little witch! I
knew
she would
do something like this." He folded his arms across his chest and cast her a burning look.

"Well, you may just forget it, do you hear me?" he commanded, his arrogance making her teeth grit in fury. "I didn't save you from being executed as a traitor just so you and Elinore can run about playing at being spies."

"We are not playing!" Elizabeth denied, furious that he could be so dismissing of her and her friend when Elinore had almost died performing her duties. "Elinore
is
a spy, and I mean to help her in any way I can."

"You most certainly will not!" he shot back, dropping his arms and stepping forward until they were all but nose-to-nose. "Spying is an occupation best left to a man, and by heaven, that is what you shall do! A woman has no business risking her life!"

Elizabeth treated this pronouncement with the contempt she felt it deserved. "Why not?" she challenged, too incensed to be cautious. "Or do you think patriotism purely a man's prerogative? You believed quick enough that Lady Barrington was a traitor. If you could believe a woman capable of betraying her country, why should you find it so difficult that a woman could be equally capable of defending it?"

Adam opened his lips and then closed them, clearly at the end of his tether. "We are not going to argue about this," he said firmly, placing his hands on her shoulders and drawing her against him. "My marchioness is not going to go tearing about the countryside courting danger, and that is final."

"I am not your marchioness, nor shall I ever be!" Elizabeth cried furiously. "I will do as I please, and there is nothing you can do to stop me!"

"Isn't there?" He pulled her into his arms and took her lips in a kiss of unmistakable passion.

At the touch of his mouth on hers, Elizabeth's hurt and temper melded into a desire so strong, she was helpless to fight its pull. She loved Adam, and she wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. Right or wrong no longer
mattered; there was only she and Adam, and the powerful magic they created together.