Trouble With Harry Page 22

  “My lord, I sense the matter is of some urgency. The butler Juan claims it is life or death.”

  “Juan lives his life like a melodrama,” Harry told Tremayne the butler. “Everything is life or death to him. Pay him no mind for a few minutes, and he’ll calm down.”

  Noble had been frowning into the empty fireplace. He looked up with a speculative air. “I don’t think it was a joke or a test, Harry. Thom was very specific that Plum wanted to hire a thug to kill a Mr. de Spenser without being caught. Why would she be so adamant about that if it was a joke?”

  Harry stared at his friend in disbelief for a moment, then bellowed, “De Spenser? It’s de Spenser she wants killed? Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, that’s what the letter said. Would you like me to fetch it? I believe Nick left it somewhere. He’s gone off to see if your niece is in the park, to try to get more information about this odd request. I take it you know this de Spenser?”

  “Bloody hell, why didn’t you tell me it was de Spenser in the first place?” Harry roared.

  Noble’s face took on the expression of the deepest righteous indignation. “You never asked!”

  “Gaaaah!” Harry yelled to the heavens and, spinning on his heel, ran for his horse.

  “My lord! Harry, you must hear me out!”

  “Later,” Harry shouted to Juan as he ran down the front steps, leaping into the saddle.

  “It concerns the diablitos!” Juan bellowed after him.

  “I’ll settle with Plum later for whatever they’ve done,” Harry yelled back.

  Juan swore fluently, then made for his own horse, kicking the animal into a gallop after his quickly disappearing employer. “Harry, it is the most important that you stop and listen to me!”

  Harry didn’t acknowledge the cry of the man behind him. He had more important things to focus on, such as finding his wife and worming out the reason she felt obliged to hire a man to kill a man who was already dead. Could it be a brother she was targeting?

  “My lord—” Harry dodged carriages, gigs, people, dogs, horses, children, and all the other assorted obstacles that made up the morning traffic, pulling up only after the words thrown at him made sense.

  “The diablitos were kidnapped!”

  “They were what?” Harry exploded. He turned his horse and grabbed at Juan’s coat as the butler pulled up next to him, hauling the unfortunate servant halfway off his horse. “THEY WERE WHAT?”

  “Stole your children,” Juan panted. “They are gone to Vauxhall, to the ruins, Sam says. You see? If you had listened to me at first, then you would not be so very angry now. No one listens to me. It is my most tragic fate.”

  Harry snarled an invective into the man’s face, then tossed him back into the saddle and urged Thor into a gallop, oblivious of traffic and pedestrians alike.

  ***

  “What do you think, Nick? Those men won’t hurt the children, will they?”

  Nick glanced from Thom’s worried eyes to the young woman sitting opposite him. Although he hadn’t witnessed the kidnapping himself—and sorely wished he had been present, for he would have given the bastards a good fight—he had come across Thom and India racing down the street bordering the park afterward. “No, I don’t think they’ll hurt the little ones. They have no reason to—kidnappers only kidnap because they want something in return. They know that Harry will demand proof of the well-being of his children before he pays a ransom.”

  “I suppose so,” Thom said, worrying her lower lip. “And they’ll have Digger, assuming he made it onto the carriage without the men seeing him. I just don’t understand why they took only the youngest three. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Nick shrugged, glancing out the window. He wanted to be questioning the footman who currently clung to the top of the hired hackney about what he had seen, but had held off because of the erroneous assumption that Thom would be too distraught to be left by herself. He had wronged Thom on that score—she was worried, yes, but not hysterical. “Tell me again what happened. Everything.”

  Thom took a deep breath. “We were strolling through the park, as usual. The children wanted to go to Kensington as a change of scenery, so the younger ones were having a little footrace there. One moment they were running and laughing as we approached Kensington Park, the next minute two carriages pulled up, and several men jumped down and snatched up the children. Sam and the two men Harry hired all ran forward, but the other men were armed and struck them all down. Sam was the only one we could rouse, and he said one of the men mentioned meeting at a ruin. Digger ran off after one of the carriages, and I think he made it onto the back without being seen, but I was paying attention to Sam at the time, and I didn’t see for certain. India and I chased after them as well, but they were too fast, and no carriages would stop for us! We must have run for fifteen minutes before you found us. Thank heavens you were able to make one of the hackney drivers stop. It’s most vexing that they wouldn’t do the same for me! We might have been at the ruins much earlier if they had.”

  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 had 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; they were younger than he had 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 gentleman yelled, the impatient sod. 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 having the interior checked for snakes!”

  As they halted, Max sighed and resigned himself to searching the carriage for snakes. The gentleman paced outside, ranting against the person who thought to make a cruel joke on him. Max set two of his henchman to watch the children where they were clustered in a small group outside the carriage, then turned to confront the interior. Just as he lifted a cushion to peer underneath it, the twins began attacking their guards with fists and feet. Max 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.”

  “Th
ank 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, Ben 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 handsome 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 and 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 altogether, 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.