The Trouble With Harry n-3 Read online

  Nick thought of the wild figures India and Thom had made, racing down the street yelling like banshees, their hair windblown, their skirts covered in dust, but said nothing.

  “What was that? Did you hear something, Malmseynose? Did you hear that slithering noise? I distinctly heard a slithering noise! God’s blood, if you’ve got a snake on your person, I’ll have you hung by your cods from the highest tree!”

  Max Malmseynose, hired ruffian and primary kidnapper, looked startled at both the thought of carrying a snake around, and the mode of revenge espoused by the gentleman who hired him. “I didn’t hear nothing, sir.”

  “Well I heard something, something slitherish. Be quiet, you little brat! I need to listen, and I can’t do that with you sniveling.”

  Max put a hand out to the right to push the small boy back into the corner of the carriage, giving him a warning look in the process. He felt badly about his role in the children’s nabbing since they were younger than he expected. The twins were quiet, holding each other for comfort, while the smaller boy was sniffling and crying for his mama. It was almost enough to break his heart.

  Almost.

  “I want Mama.”

  “Shut up,” Max said without any real heat.

  “Jackson wants Mama, too.”

  “Keep that little bastard quiet! How can I listen for slithering with him babbling!”

  “McTavish isn’t a bastard,” the older boy said. “A bastard is someone whose mama and papa aren’t married, but ours were.”

  “QUIET!” the man yelled. He took a deep breath, then suddenly jerked his leg up. “There, do you hear it? Slithering! Stop the coach! Stop, I tell you! I won’t go one more foot without the interior checked for snakes!”

  Max sighed and resigned himself to searching the carriage for snakes while the gentleman paced outside, ranting against the person who thought to make a cruel joke on him. He set two men to watch the children, then turned back to the carriage. Just as he lifted a cushion to peer underneath it, the twins began attacking the men with fists and feet. He turned back to assist the men, but was knocked backward by the flying body of the small boy.

  “Jackson!” the child screamed in his ear, climbing him like he was a tree. “Jackson’s loose! Jackson!”

  From the corner of his eye Max saw a yellow-and-black striped shape slide under the seat opposite. Evidently the gentleman was right. There was a snake in the carriage.

  Max sighed again. It was going to be a long, long day.

  The trap in the roof of the carriage lifted, and Ben leaned down to announce, “Vauxhall Gardens, my lady. We will take you as close to the ruins as possible.”

  “Thank you,” Plum said, chewing her lip as she watched out the window. “The ruins, what would they want at the ruins? They’re not even real, no more than the faux castle and cannons and cascade are real. What on earth can they want at the ruins?”

  The carriage came to a halt before Plum could puzzle out an answer. “Which way are the ruins?” she asked as she leaped down without waiting for the steps to be lowered.

  “That way, through the long lawn, to the left of the iron bridge, beyond the thatched pavilion.”

  “Ben, you come with me. Sam, you stay here in case Lord Rosse shows up. You can tell him where we’ve gone. Are you armed, Ben?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  “Excellent. Try not to kill anyone unless you absolutely have to.”

  “Right you are,” Ben said cheerfully. The two of them set off at a run across the small, delightful groves, charming lawns, serpentine walks, and shady bowers that made up some of the sixteen acres of the famed Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.

  As they approached the ruins, Sam pointed and yelled that they were close. Suddenly the figure of a man burst from behind a partially standing wall, spinning and yelling and waving his arms around like he was a madman. Clinging to his back was the lithe shape of a tall boy.

  “Digger!” Plum cried, and picking up her skirts, dashed toward the pair. It wasn’t easy going with crumbled bits of stone, rotted wood, and awkward mounds of grassy earth that had been artfully arranged as part of the romantic ruins, but where there was Digger, there was bound to be the rest of the children. The man Digger was beating about the head caught sight of her and bellowed a warning, then turned and lumbered back behind the wall. Behind her a shout included her name. Plum slowed and glanced backward. Thom and India and a tall, handsome young man were running toward them. She waved and spun back around, catching up to Ben as they rounded the corner of a large piece of ruins. The scene before them was of utter chaos. Plum paused for a brief moment, unable to believe what she was seeing, then with a quick smile and a whoop that rivaled those the children were making, threw herself into the fray.

  If the situation had not posed danger to the children, Plum thought as she raised her skirt high enough to kick out at the man who was dragging Digger from his back, it would be amusing. Digger’s assailant clutched himself, doubled over, and rolled to the ground screaming something about his unborn children. Digger gave her a cheeky grin and the pair turned to where a ginger-haired man was trying unsuccessfully to tuck Andrew and Anne under his arms. The twins were shrieking and squirming and biting at the man, but Plum didn’t stop to lavish praise upon them for their intelligent behavior — she lowered her head and charged across the rocky ground toward the man who had her stepchildren. The cowardly miscreant took one look at her — and the three people following on her heels — and dropped the twins, spinning around to head for the scenic wood that bordered the faux ruins.

  “After him,” Plum cried to the young man who accompanied Thom, falling to her knees to embrace the twins. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “Mama! Mama help me!” a youthful voice cried. Plum turned from where she was pressing kisses onto the squirming twins, jumping up to look down what was meant to represent a ruined cloistered walk consisting of a few broken archways and fallen columns.

  “Digger, take care of the twins,” Plum cried as she dashed off. At the far end of the walk rose a large block of stone topped by wildflowers. The ginger-haired man stood next to the stone, a pistol in one hand and McTavish in the other. Movement behind her indicated that Thom and India had followed her.

  “Stand back, all of you, or I’ll see to it this little bastard goes to meet his maker! You! You the boy’s mama?”

  Plum walked forward slowly, gesturing behind her back in an attempt to warn the others off. “Yes, I am his mother. You can’t want to harm him, it will do you no good. Why don’t you take me, instead?”

  “Come closer, and we’ll talk about it,” the ginger-haired man said.

  Plum turned her head slightly to the right, never once taking her eyes from the muzzle of the pistol pressed to her youngest stepson’s head as she slowly paced toward him. “Digger?”

  “Yes, Plum?” His voice was as soft as hers.

  “Take the others to the carriage. Be very quiet and do not attack anyone. Their safety is in your hands.”

  “I’d rather stay here with you.”

  Plum risked a glance to the side to where her stepson stood. He looked just like Harry at that moment, a realization that wrung her heart. “I know you would, but you must think of their safety first.”

  “All right. I won’t let you down.”

  “Tell Sam and the other men to stay back.” Plum stepped forward, her hands spread to show she was unarmed. “Let the child go. He’s not as valuable as I am, surely?”

  “That’s as may be, but I was hired to take the youngsters.” The man edged nervously around the side of the stone, his grip on the boy’s neck tightening as he had to drag McTavish over a small hillock. “No closer now, my lady. I wouldn’t want you getting heroic. You, there, in the back. Release my man or I shoot the lad.”

  Plum prayed that the man who accompanied Thom would do as he was asked. Evidently he did, because a thin, weedy man with two bruised eyes and a bloody nose staggered to the far side of
the walk, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

  The man with the pistol nodded toward her. “Take the lady, Davey. Hold her in case the gent back there gets any ideas.”

  “Who is it?” Plum asked in a whisper as the bloodied man limped toward her.

  “The gentleman? That’s Nick, my burglar,” Thom whispered back.

  “Tell him to be ready. I will pretend to stumble and fall toward the man with the pistol. You must grab McTavish while the burglar takes care of this one.”

  Thom stepped away as the hired thug grabbed Plum’s arm, snarling an oath under his breath. His fingers bit cruelly into her arm as he jerked her forward.

  Plum, mindful of the broken stones and the debris that littered the ground, knew full well that she was endangering herself and her babe, but she would not tolerate the devils having McTavish. She braced herself, spying a likely looking piece of stone over which she would stumble, but just as she was about to throw herself forward, the sound of muffled hoof beats reached her ears.

  “If that’s another one of your men, tell him to stay back,” the ginger-haired man warned, cocking the pistol. “Or I’ll blow this little bastard’s head from his neck!”

  Plum was incapable of speech, so furious was she, but even she paused for a moment when a riderless horse burst into the open space from beyond the ruins. Its reins were hanging loose, and immediately upon sighting the group of men, it shied and veered away. At that moment a dark shape leaped out from behind the far edge of the standing wall, seeming to fly across the empty space before landing on the ginger-haired man. McTavish was knocked forward as the two men fell, a pistol shot breaking the peaceful quiet.

  “Harry!” Plum shrieked, and kicked out at her guard before throwing herself protectively over the top of McTavish. He squirmed beneath her, and she eased up enough to let him breathe, but when she saw Harry knock the pistol from the ginger-haired man’s hand, she leaped to her feet, hauled McTavish up, shoving him at Thom before running forward to see how badly Harry had been hurt.

  “Hurt? Me? Woman, what are you babbling about?” Harry asked, shaking his hand and pushing his spectacles back.

  “I heard a shot! The pistol was pointed toward you! When you shoved McTavish out of its path, you were in the way! Where are you bleeding? Are you in pain?”

  Plum started checking over her husband’s arms and chest, but he put a stop to her stripping him bare in front of everyone only by grasping both of her hands and shaking her slightly.

  “Plum, I’m not injured. The pistol discharged without striking anyone. If you look to your right, you can see where it struck what’s standing of that wall.”

  Plum looked, and then sagged against him in relief. “Oh, Harry! I’m so glad you’re not hurt.”

  “Well, as to that, so am I,” Harry grinned. “This brute hasn’t fared as well, however.”

  “Oh, he deserves to be unconscious,” Plum said indistinctly, her face pressed against her husband’s neck. She didn’t even spare a glance to the man who lay fallen behind him. Harry and the children were all that mattered.

  “He does, but I would have liked to ask him a few questions. We’ll just have to hope he didn’t scramble his wits when he hit his head on that rock,” Harry said, pushing Plum gently from his chest to squat down and examine the man. “Damn. Well, I guess there’s only one left. Nick, thought you’d be here. You didn’t kill that one, did you?”

  “I assumed you’d want him alive,” the burglar Nick said. The man who had grabbed her by the arm was lying on the ground, moaning and cradling his head.

  “Good. Plum, you and Thom take the children to the carriage. Ben, you go with them.”

  Plum, shaking a little in the aftermath of the attack, rubbed her arms. “Do you know Thom’s burglar?”

  Harry grinned. Now was not the time to explain about Nick. “We’ve met.”

  “Oh, what will you do now?”

  He prodded the man with the toe of his boot. “Hmm? Oh, Nick and I will stay behind and have a little chat with our friend here. And make sure the other ruffian is taken into custody. Is this all there were, two of them?”

  “No, there were four all together, but the other two were in a separate carriage. I didn’t see them when we arrived,” Thom said.

  “Must have run off once they realized there was trouble,” Harry mused. “Ah well, we have the one. You ladies go on home, now.”

  “I think we should stay. You may need some help persuading him to talk,” Plum said, giving him a look that warmed him to his toes. No other wife but Plum would want to stay and torture the truth out of a roughneck. Was it any wonder he loved her so? Still, such business was not for women.

  It took some convincing, but at last Harry managed to get Plum and the children off toward home, but only after he promised both ladies that he would fill them in with all the information he gleaned from the hoodlum.

  “And now, my good fellow, let us have a little discussion,” Harry said cheerfully as he turned back to the battered man. Nick grinned. The man looked like he was going to be sick.

  It didn’t take much to make the bloodied man talk — faced with the threat of a couple of fingers broken, and he sang like a nightingale — but unfortunately, he was evidently not in the confidence of the man who had arranged the kidnapping.

  “I don’t know ‘im,” the thug Davey whined, nursing his fingers. “Max, ‘e was me boss. I worked for ‘im. Max is the one what knew ‘is nibs.”

  “His nibs? The man who hired Max was a gentleman?”

  “Aye, talked right proper, and dressed fair to make yer eyes water.”

  “His name,” Harry snarled.

  “Don’t know it, ‘onest I don’t!” Davey shrieked as Harry raised his fist. “Max never tol’ me, ‘e just said as we ‘ad a job to snaffle some cossets, that’s all ‘e be tellin’ me, so ‘elp me God!”

  Harry questioned the man for an hour before he passed out, but long before that he realized that what the man claimed was true — he was just an underling, hired as a body to help kidnap the children, nothing more. He damned the situation that left the leader, Max, insensible. He was so close to finding out who was behind the attacks. If only he had arrived earlier…

  “Can you take care of them, Nick?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Nick said as he heaved the unconscious man none too gently onto his shoulder. “I’ll take him to the police, shall I?”

  “Yes.” Harry stood staring down at the ginger-haired Max. “I’d best speak to the magistrate about this, but first I’m going to have a sketch of his face made and take it to the Home Office. Maybe someone will recognize him.”

  Nick hesitated, worry furrowing his brow. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  Harry swore under his breath as he turned away from the man. His face was grim and set with determination as he admitted the truth to himself. He was no closer to naming the man behind the plot against his family. He would have to redouble his attempts to dig out the proof that was needed to identify the villain. “It’s nothing I can’t take care of.”

  CHAPTER Fifteen

  “Well?” Thom asked two days later as she burst into Plum’s sitting room.

  “I have an appointment tonight to meet with a man your burglar says will take care of my problem,” Plum said triumphantly.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Thom said, plopping gracelessly into a nearby chair. “I just knew Nick wouldn’t let me down. He’s so wonderful, don’t you think? He was very brave at Vauxhall.”

  Plum glanced from her niece to the letter she’d received from the burglar named Nick. “He writes legibly, I’ll give him that, but Thom — he’s a burglar.”

  “I know,” Thom said, kicking her foot idly as she slouched back. “He’s a very good one, too, I’m sure.”

  “A burglar is not at all a suitable beau for a young woman of your family,” Plum said sternly, although she suspected it would do little good. Thom was always rescuing some needy creature or another — usual
ly it was cats and dogs, but evidently now she’d felt this burglar needed saving. “I’m sure he’s not at all nice for you to know. He isn’t—”

  Thom’s face set into a mulish expression as she sat up. “He isn’t what?”

  Plum’s hands fluttered about expressively. She hated to sound like a snob, but there were limits to how far she was willing to bend for Thom, and burglars were that limit. “He’s not a gentleman.”

  “Hrmph. I don’t care about that. He’s my friend. I like him. And he saved Harry’s children from certain death. Twice!”

  Plum bit back her objections. Thom was absolutely right, no matter how unsuitable the young man was for her, he had saved the children, and for that she would be eternally grateful to him. Perhaps once Harry had caught the person responsible for the horrible attacks, she could do something for the man. Clean him up, educate him, find him a good job…“As you say, we all owe him a great deal, and I will be happy to do what I can to show my gratitude. Now, I have been busy writing, and I’d like your opinion on some of the scenarios I’ve created.”

  “Scenarios?” Thom leaned forward to peer at the sheets of paper on Plum’s writing desk. “What scenarios?”

  “Scenarios for Charles, of course. Oh, speaking of him, I’ve had another letter. That makes the third in as many days.”

  Thom made a rude face. Plum, who agreed wholeheartedly with her niece’s unspoken opinion, said nothing but handed the letter over, watching as Thom read it with growing indignation.

  “He has nerve threatening you like that! How dare he?”

  “Evidently he feels that my lack of response to his demands for money are an indication I am not taking care of the matter.” A particularly unwholesome — for one Mr. Charles de Spenser — smile curled her lips. “Little does he know that I am, indeed, taking steps to resolve the situation.”

  Thom smirked, tossing the letter back onto Plum’s desk. “The beastly man. I should just like to see him make good his threats. Harry has so many men attending us whenever we go out, a butterfly couldn’t get through their defenses.”