The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere by Anna Bradley

Chapter Fourteen

Georgiana was shouting out the window at Lord Haslemere. Lord Haslemere was shouting at the coachman, who was babbling incoherently in reply, and Daniel was standing on the pavement in his shirtsleeves, his pistol stuffed into his waistband and one enormous fist cocked and aimed at Lord Haslemere’s head.

This was the scene waiting for Lady Clifford when the commotion at last drove her from her bedchamber to the doorway of the Clifford School. She took one look at the chaos, planted her hands on her hips, and started barking orders. “Daniel, kindly refrain from assaulting Lord Haslemere. Georgiana, it is not at all ladylike to shout into the street from your bedchamber window. You, young man.” She pointed at the coachman. “Silence, if you please. As for you, Lord Haslemere, this is hardly the proper time for a call. What are you doing on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”

“Georgiana…Kenilworth…my sister and nephew…” Benedict began, but when he tried to explain himself to Lady Clifford, he realized he hadn’t any bloody idea what was going on. “Explain yourself, Grigg,” he demanded, tugging poor Grigg into the midst of the melee.

Grigg stumbled forward, his wide-eyed gaze moving between Benedict, Lady Clifford, and Daniel Brixton’s pistol. “Erm, well, I went off to the duke’s like ye told me to, my lord, and what do ye suppose I found?”

“That’s what we’re waiting to find out, Grigg.”

“Right. Well, the duke’s house was all lit up, an’ servants all scattering this way and that, and there was a traveling coach waiting outside.”

Benedict’s blood went cold. “What’s Kenilworth want with a traveling coach at midnight? Was there anyone inside it?”

“Nay, my lord, but someone was going somewhere, right enough, because the servants were shoving all sort of packages and bundles and whatnot inside.”

“Jane and Freddy.” Benedict’s frantic gaze met Lady Clifford’s. “He’s sending them away from London.”

“We don’t know that, Lord Haslemere, but he’s certainly sending someone somewhere.” Lady Clifford tapped her lip, thinking. “Is the duke likely to hurt either the duchess or their son?”

“A week ago, I would have said no. Now?” Benedict’s hands clenched into fists. He’d never felt so helpless in his life. “I think it’s possible, yes. At the very least, he has the means to hide them. He has dozens of homes in England, and several more in remote parts of Scotland. If he succeeds in getting them out of London, we’ll never find them.”

That was enough for Lady Clifford. “Daniel, ready yourself while I fetch Georgiana.”

“No!” Benedict’s voice was harsh. “I don’t want Georgiana involved in this any more than she already is.”

“Does the duke know who Miss Georgiana is?” Brixton’s face was like stone. “He knows she works with Lady Clifford?”

“Yes. He had us followed from Lady Archer’s. I saw the carriage hidden in the mews. I came back here to warn her, but thanks to you, Brixton, we’ve wasted precious time.” But as much as Benedict wanted to blame this whole mess on Brixton, he knew this was all his own fault.

He’d endangered Jane, Freddy, and Georgiana when he’d insisted on paying that call at Grosvenor Street this morning. That devil Bagshaw must have eavesdropped on their conversation, then wasted no time telling the duke all about it. There was no other explanation for why Kenilworth had turned up at Lady Archer’s when he never wagered. He’d never appeared at any of her entertainments before.

The duke had come to Lady Archer’s tonight specifically to find out who Georgiana was, and he’d succeeded. Once he discovered she was part of the Clifford School, it would be easy enough for him to deduce she was prodding into secrets he’d prefer remain buried.

There were discreet rumors about the school, and rumors about Lady Clifford. There were always rumors, but only those people who had reasons to hide their behavior knew precisely what she did. Benedict had made a grave error assuming Kenilworth wasn’t one of them.

How much would his inattention cost him? How much would it cost Georgiana, Jane, and Freddy? What was Kenilworth hiding? Whatever it was, he was going to great lengths to keep anyone from discovering it. First Draven, and now Jane and Freddy. The thought of his sweet, gentle sister and young nephew at the mercy of such a man made Benedict shudder.

“What’s happened?” Georgiana was hurrying down the stairs. “It’s not the duchess, is it?”

Benedict gave her a grim nod. “Both Jane and Freddy. Grigg saw a traveling coach waiting outside the Grosvenor Street mansion. Kenilworth’s sending them away from London. I know it.”

“Dear God. Quickly, then. They’ll have a start on us.”

“I want you to go with them, Daniel,” Lady Clifford said. “Do whatever you must to prevent their leaving London. Once you’ve recovered them, bring them back here. I’ll make arrangements to keep them safe while we decide what to do.”

Georgiana was halfway out the door, but Benedict caught her arm. “No, Georgiana. You’re staying here. Brixton and I will go.”

“No. I’m going with you.” Georgiana jerked her arm free. “The duchess came to me for my help, my lord. I’m not going to abandon her now when she needs it more than ever.”

“For God’s sake, Georgiana, will you listen to reason? It’s not safe. How can I focus on Jane and Freddy if I’m trying to keep an eye on you?”

“You don’t need to keep an eye on me. I’m perfectly able to take care of myself.”

Benedict glanced at Lady Clifford, hoping she’d support him, but she was looking at Georgiana with an unmistakable look of pride on her face. He threw up his hands in frustration. “You’re all mad, every last one of you.”

“Benedict, please. I can’t just stay here, waiting and worrying. I promise you I can take care of myself.” Georgiana touched his arm, a wry twist to her lips. “I may even be able to help.”

“We’re wasting time, Haslemere,” Brixton growled. “Let the lass come.”

“It doesn’t look as if I have any choice.” Benedict was far from reconciled to the idea, but for once, Brixton was right. There was no time to argue about it.

They didn’t speak as they hurried into Benedict’s carriage and Grigg drove them to Grosvenor Square. Benedict could hardly think as they rattled through London. What would they do if Jane and Freddy were already gone? It had been nearly half an hour since Grigg appeared in Maddox Street. How would they find them then? Even if they did have the good luck to catch up to them, how would they get them away from the duke—

“Look,” Georgiana said softly, laying her hand on Benedict’s arm. “Just there.”

Grigg, who knew to be cautious, had stopped the carriage on the corner of North Audley and Brook Street, out of sight of the Kenilworth mansion, but close enough so they could see what was happening on the other end of Grosvenor Street.

Brixton grunted. “If the duke wanted to hide ’em, he should have had ’em taken out through the mews. Fool.”

Benedict had gone still, anger rushing like poison through his veins. Just as Grigg had said, a traveling coach was waiting in front of the house. It was luxuriously appointed, but black, and unmarked.

“It looks as if the duke intends for them to take a lengthy journey.” Georgiana watched out the window as two servants dragged out a heavy trunk and loaded it onto the coach.

“A lengthy, secret journey,” Benedict said. “There’s no crest on the door. That’s a hired coach.”

There was no sign of Kenilworth, but a burly footman was hurrying a petite lady down the front steps to the open carriage door. A veiled hat covered her face, but it was certainly Jane. A second footman followed, half-dragging a little boy behind him. The boy was similarly disguised with a cap pulled low over his face, but Benedict would know Freddy anywhere.

“That villain.” Benedict scrabbled for the door, half-crazed with fury and fear. “I’m going to bloody kill him—”

Brixton stopped him. “Nay, my lord. Stay where ye are, and let them go.”

“Let them go? Damnation, man, you’re mad if you think I’m going to let that blackguard kidnap my sister and nephew!”

“Nothing ye can do about it, Haslemere. Kenilworth’s her husband. He wants her to go, she goes, no matter if ye like it or not. You try and stop it, the duke will have ye taken up, and then what?”

Georgiana squeezed his arm. “Daniel’s right, Benedict. There’s nothing you can do just now.”

Benedict sucked in a breath, struggling to get control of himself. Brixton was right, damn him. He’d only make it worse if he charged into the middle of it. “What do you suggest then, Brixton? Because I’ll be damned if I let that scoundrel take my family.”

“They won’t get far. We’ll let ’em get out of London. It’s dark, ye see?” Brixton’s mouth stretched into a bloodthirsty grin. “It’s not safe, traveling in the dark. Anything can happen once ye get onto a deserted country road, eh?”

Benedict blinked. He’d never seen Brixton smile before. It was…disturbing, but what the man said made sense. It would be much better to follow the black carriage at a discreet distance, and strike when there were no witnesses about. There were only two footmen and the coachman, and they wouldn’t be expecting an attack.

Even so, it took every shred of Benedict’s control to sit still while Jane and Freddy were shoved into the carriage. The footmen climbed in after them, and a second later the coachman brought the ribbons down on the horse’s backs.

The black carriage headed southeast out of London, and from there further south, toward Bromley. Mile after mile they went, the black coach rumbling ahead of them. They didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, nor did they give any indication they were aware they were being followed.

One of the benefits of being a duke, Benedict thought, bitter anger flooding his chest. It would never occur to Kenilworth he couldn’t do precisely as he wished, no matter how heinous it was. It made Benedict’s stomach roil to think about how many times Kenilworth must have done something as fiendish as this, all while Benedict was oblivious to his perfidy, and all of London was singing his praises.

“There’s a bend in the road up ahead,” Brixton said, startling Benedict from his thoughts. “It’s narrow—too narrow for both carriages to stay on the road.”

“You’re thinking we should come along beside them, and force them into the ditch?” Georgiana peered out the window. “I don’t know, Daniel. That ditch looks deep. The coach may overturn.”

“Nay, we won’t run ’em off. We can’t risk hurting the duchess and the lad. We’ll get in front of ’em and force ’em to stop once we get to the bend. They can’t get around us there. We’re lighter and quicker than the coach, so it won’t be any trouble to get by ’em, but if they hit us, your carriage may not escape without a battering, Haslemere.”

“I don’t give a damn about the carriage.” All Benedict cared about was keeping Georgiana in one piece, and getting Jane and Freddy safely out of the duke’s hands.

“What about Grigg?” Georgiana asked. “Do you suppose he can manage it? As soon as he gets the carriage into position he’ll need to leap down from the box, just in case they do hit us.”

Benedict stared at her, amazed to hear her discussing a coaching accident with such sangfroid. But then, she was one of Lady Clifford’s girls, and had likely seen things not many young ladies her age had seen.

Ugly things.

He watched the dim shafts of moonlight moving across her face. It was peculiar to him, how she was so experienced in some ways, yet so innocent in others. He’d never known a woman like her—doubted there was another woman like her. His chest pinched at the thought, and for a moment he couldn’t catch a breath.

“Benedict?” Georgiana’s brows drew together. “Are you all right?”

Benedict jerked his attention back to the matter at hand. “Yes, I’m fine, and Grigg is capable.” He and Grigg had been in a few scrapes during their time together, and Grigg had more than proved his skill with the ribbons. Benedict trusted him implicitly. “How far along is the bend?”

“Just up ahead. We need to warn yer man.”

Benedict slid the panel open and called to Grigg, who listened to Brixton’s instructions with unmistakable relish. Grigg was fond of a good dustup now and again, and nodded his agreement.

“Once he’s stopped the carriage, everyone gets out. Lass, you get to the side of the road while Haslemere and I get into the coach and—”

“I won’t be of any use to anyone standing on the side of the road, Daniel. No, I’ll follow you to the coach, and see if I can get the duchess and Freddy out of—”

“No!” Benedict’s voice was louder than he’d intended it to be. Georgiana jumped, and even Brixton, whom Benedict had never seen caught off guard before, jerked his head toward Benedict in surprise. “You’ll stay out of the way, just as Brixton says.”

For the first time ever, Brixton gave him an approving look. “Aye. It’s best that way, lass.”

Georgiana didn’t appear to hear him. She was staring at Benedict, her lips tight. “Is that so, my lord? I beg your pardon, but the duchess engaged my services, not you. My loyalty is to her. As fond as you are at issuing commands, I don’t recall ever agreeing to follow them.”

“Then don’t follow my commands. Follow Brixton’s. It makes no difference to me, as long as you keep to the side where you’re less likely to be trampled by a horse or caught beneath the coach’s wheels.”

“This may surprise you, Lord Haslemere, but I’m perfectly capable of—”

“I don’t care what you think you’re capable of, Miss Harley.” On some distant level, Benedict realized he’d lost control, but he was becoming more agitated with every word out of her mouth. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing her bloody, mangled body under the horses’ massive hooves, or worse, with one of Kenilworth’s savage footmen with his hands around her neck.

She didn’t answer, but the expression on her face didn’t inspire confidence. Her lips were tight, and that incredulous eyebrow remained arched, but Benedict refused to give in.

Grigg was urging the horses forward, and they were closing in on the black coach. “They’ve seen us, my lord!” he shouted through the open panel. “Hold on tight, now. I’ll have to speed up to catch them at the bend, and it’ll be a hard stop.”

“Do what you must, Grigg, but see that you catch them.” Benedict braced his feet against the floor, then reached for Georgiana. She squeaked in surprise as he slid her across the bench and tucked her as tightly against the length of his body as he could, to protect her if the coach did hit them.

“Lord Haslemere!” She made an attempt to squirm away from him.

“Quiet,” Benedict hissed, holding her fast. “All right there, Brixton?”

Brixton snorted. “Don’t worry about me, Haslemere. This won’t be the first time I’ve been knocked about. Just mind ye take care of that lass.”

The sky had gone an ominous black above them. The road was dark, and they were moving at such a brisk pace the view outside the window was an indistinct blur, but Benedict caught a glimpse of the coach as they careened past, a bulky shadow in the darkness. The duke’s horses let out a frightened screech as the carriage sped by them. There was a shout—Grigg, Benedict thought—an answering curse, then a jolt as Grigg wrenched the horses to the left, bringing them broadside across the road.

There was another shout, this one edged with panic. The carriage shuddered around them, every seam creaking as they tipped to the right, listing dangerously until Benedict was sure they’d go over. He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around Georgiana, but just as he’d braced himself for a crash into the ditch, the carriage fell back onto its wheels again with a wrench, sending them all crashing to the floor.

And then…pandemonium, as everyone scrambled from their vehicles at once.

“Don’t move, Georgiana.” Benedict swept her off to the side of the road, away from a battle that was already shaping up to be an ugly one. Kenilworth’s coachman scrambled down from the box, and the two footmen erupted from the carriage, shouting and cursing. “Promise me!”

Georgiana didn’t promise, but they were already in the midst of the frenzy by then, and there was no time for Benedict to do anything but dart for the coach. A child’s terrified cries rose from inside, swelling above the commotion. “Freddy!”

“Mind the coachman’s pistol, Haslemere!”

Before Benedict could react to Brixton’s warning a sharp crack echoed in the night, and a pistol ball flew past his head, a mere fraction away from striking his temple.

“Benedict!”

The night tried to steal Georgiana’s scream. Benedict heard her, but when he turned back, she was no longer there. He whirled around, his heart rushing into his throat when he caught a glimpse of her dark red skirts rounding the side of Kenilworth’s carriage.

“Georgiana!” He started to go after her, but one of Kenilworth’s footmen charged at him and knocked him to the ground. He rolled and was up again in a flash, his fists clenched and a snarl on his lips, but Grigg, who was small and wiry, had leapt onto the man’s back and was pressing his forearm into his windpipe.

“Good man, Grigg.” Benedict wiped his eyes to clear the dust, then seized ahold of the footman. “Let him go. I’ve got him. Go after Miss Harley.”

Grigg dropped nimbly to the ground and darted around the side of the carriage while Benedict dragged the footman, who was still choking and coughing, to the side of the road and, with one powerful shove, heaved him into the ditch.

Benedict whirled around again to find Brixton making quick and brutal work of the other footman. The man’s hand was pressed to his nose, blood spurting through his fingers and gushing down his chin. “Here, Brixton!”

Brixton turned, and Benedict jerked his head toward the ditch. “Over the side. Neither of them is climbing up from that hole anytime soon.”

A ferocious grin spread over Brixton’s face as he dragged the man through the dirt to the edge of the embankment and tossed him gleefully over the edge. “Yer smarter than ye look, Haslemere.”

“I’m just glad we’re on the same side,” Benedict muttered as he charged back toward the coach with Brixton on his heels. The only one of Kenilworth’s men who was unaccounted for was the coachman, but he was the one who had the pistol, and Georgiana…

Georgiana was nowhere to be seen.

“The lass?” Brixton shouted. “Where’s the—”

They caught sight of her at the same time, hurrying around the back of the coach, Freddy in her arms. Waiting for her on the other side, just out of her sight, was the coachman, his pistol drawn.

A sound tore from Benedict’s throat, a cry of warning, deep and raw and painful, and then he was running, his boots sliding over the loose dirt, his heart pounding, his gaze fixed on the muzzle of the pistol as it lifted, aimed…and then, incredibly he was there, seizing the man’s wrist and wrenching it into the air, a blast ripping through the night as Benedict slammed the man into the side of the coach.

Brixton was on them the next second. “Into Haslemere’s carriage,” he shouted to Georgiana as he snatched the pistol from the coachman’s hand. “Both of you. Hurry, lass.”

Georgiana hardly spared them a glance as she darted past them, but instead of doing as Brixton bid her, she shoved Freddy into Grigg’s arms, then turned and rushed back toward the coach.

“Georgiana!” Benedict roared. “Get back—”

“Some help, Haslemere?” Brixton was pressing the coachman’s face into the dirt, grunting as the man howled and cursed and thrashed to get free.

Benedict grabbed the man by the collar and hauled him to his feet. “Quiet, you bloody villain,” he snarled as he dragged him across the road, and without the slightest hesitation, tossed him into the ditch. To his shock, Brixton scrambled after the man, skidding and slipping down the side of the ditch, the coachman’s pistol still in his hand. “Brixton, what the devilare you doing?”

“Never mind me. Fetch the lass, Haslemere.”

“Don’t shoot them,” Benedict warned before he turned and flew back to the coach. Georgiana was just emerging from the thick cloud of dust raised by the scuffle, her arm around Jane’s shoulders as she helped her toward his carriage. “Jane!”

Jane’s head jerked up. “Benedict!” She rushed toward him.

Benedict gathered her into his chest, his eyes closing. “Jane, thank God. You’re not hurt?”

“N-no, but you have to listen to me, Benedict.” Jane clutched at his coat with frantic fingers, struggling to catch her breath. “You must leave this alone! Promise me, Benedict—swear to me you won’t dig any further into the duke’s secrets.”

“I can’t do that, Jane. I won’t.” Benedict’s heart broke to see her in such distress, but Kenilworth had tried to kidnap her and Freddy, damn him. There was no going back from that. “Tell me what Kenilworth has done, Jane. Why are you so frightened of him?”

“You have no idea what he’s capable of, Benedict. He…he’ll make you pay, just like…” Jane trailed off, her face crumpling.

“Let me worry about Kenilworth—”

“No! Benedict, wait.” Jane clung to his hands with icy cold fingers. “You should know what you’re risking. The duke isn’t the only one with secrets. Freddy is…h-he’s not Kenilworth’s heir.”

“Not his heir?” Benedict stared at her, numb with shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jane—”

“Time to move on, Haslemere.” Brixton had climbed out of the ditch and was approaching the carriage, clutching three pairs of boots in his hands. “I took their boots. It’ll slow ’em down, but they’ll find their way out of that ditch sooner or later. We’d best be gone before then.”

“No! Where are you going?” Jane’s eyes were wild as she clawed at Benedict’s coat. “Don’t go! Benedict, please. He’ll come after you. He’ll hurt you—”

“It’s all right, Jane.” Benedict cupped her head and eased it down to his chest, but over her head, he met Brixton’s gaze. “Take Freddy and Jane in my carriage, and Brixton? You and Lady Clifford will take care of them?”

“Aye. We’ll keep ’em safe.”

Benedict nodded, but his throat was tight as he led Jane to his carriage and handed her up. “Go with Mr. Brixton, Jane. He’ll take you to Lady Clifford. All right there, Freddy?” He leaned into the door, a false, reassuring smile on his face, but as soon as he got a look at his nephew, it vanished.

Freddy’s eye was swollen closed, and his cheek shadowed with ugly black and purple bruises. Benedict stared at the boy’s injury, rage and grief swelling in his chest until he was gasping for breath.

He held out his arms to his nephew, and Freddy dove into them with a strangled sob. Benedict gathered him tightly against his chest, stroked his hair, and murmured soothingly to him until the boy’s trembling eased. “I’ll see you soon, all right, my boy?” Benedict forced a smile, and chucked Freddy gently under the chin. “You’ll take care of your mama for me, won’t you?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Freddy whispered.

“Good boy.”

Benedict gave Freddy a gentle squeeze and set him back in his seat, but before he could close the carriage door, Jane grabbed his arm. “Benedict, I’m begging you to leave it be. I can’t…if something should happen to you…I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, Jane.” Benedict pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I promise it.”

“Close the door, Haslemere,” Brixton called down from the coachman’s box. “Well, lass? Are you coming, or not?”

Benedict turned to find Georgiana standing behind him, her dark red gown streaked with dirt, her face white. She was silent as she watched him close the carriage door, an expression he couldn’t read in her eyes.

“No,” she said at last, shifting her gaze to Brixton. “I’m going with Lord Haslemere. You’ll tell Lady Clifford, Daniel?”

“Aye, lass. I’ll tell her.” Daniel brought the ribbons down, and the horses started with a nervous jerk.

Within moments the carriage was off, swallowed into the darkness.