The Viscount's Dangerous Liaison: Regency romantic mystery (Dangerous Deceptions Book 3) Read online

  ‘So sorry, ladies. Hardly dinner table conversation.’

  But it seemed that enough wine had been consumed that even bringing equine ailments to the dinner table could be excused. Theo waited, alert for his cue to start the ball rolling. It came as the roasts were being cleared.

  ‘Will we have the pleasure of your company for much longer, Lord Northam?’ Lady Swinburn enquired.

  ‘I had been in two minds whether to return to Town for a short while before returning for Manners’ house party – the one I was expected for in the first place, if you recall – or to remain. I was wondering when the funeral of the Reverend Swinburn would take place. I feel I should attend that, having been instrumental in disturbing his peace.’

  ‘If the confounded Coroner would stop consulting with the Bishop and blathering about the unusual circumstances and decide when he will hold his inquest, I could tell you,’ Sir Walter snapped. ‘As it is, we will still be left wondering by Christmas.’

  ‘Such a strange affair,’ Redfern observed. ‘If it were not for the gold one might simply dismiss it as accident – and yet, how can the gold be connected?’ He swayed slightly to one side to allow Terence to deposit a tray of brandy creams on the table in front of him.

  ‘Gold?’ Sir Walter said. ‘What gold?’

  ‘Was I not supposed to mention it?’ Redfern said apologetically to Theo. ‘It cannot matter in this company, surely?’

  ‘What da– confounded gold?’ Sir Walter repeated as Theo glanced around all the faces he could see. There had been a reaction, a silent one, he was sure. A stiffening, a sharp movement on the edge of his vision. They had struck a sore nerve somewhere.

  ‘French gold,’ Perry said, with seeming reluctance. ‘Near the er… Near the late Rector.’

  Theo suppressed a shudder at the thought of that ghastly sight and made himself focus. Mrs Finch was diagonally across the table from him, sitting beside Perry and now her habitually calm expression was marred by two little lines between her brows.

  ‘It is not surprising, surely, if smugglers were using the crypt at the time,’ Mrs Gilpin observed.

  ‘True,’ Theo agreed. ‘If it were not for the fact that we are dealing with gold Napoléons minted very recently.’

  ‘Then the gang is still using the crypt,’ Giles said with a hint of impatience. ‘Surely that’s obvious?’

  ‘Is it?’ Jared cut a slice of lemon tart and passed the plate to Mrs Jenner. ‘British smugglers buy French goods, we don’t smuggle anything to them. Why should the gold be here?’

  There was no response. Theo decided it was time to push the boulder down the hill. ‘And these coins most definitely should not have been there – they were minted at the Tower of London for British agents to use in France. Agents who passed through Blakeney and vanished.’

  There was a clatter as a spoon hit a plate, then fell to the floor. Edward stepped forward and removed it from the carpet between Mrs Finch and Squire Jenner.

  ‘Are you saying that someone has been stealing that gold?’ Giles Swinburn demanded. ‘And what? Killing the agents?’

  His brother gave his inane laugh. ‘Well don’t look at us, Northam! We’ve got no piles of gold, more’s the pity. Wouldn’t have to marry my blasted cousin if we had.’

  ‘Be silent, Charles,’ Lady Swinburn said, her voice shaking.

  ‘No good trying to pin this on any of us,’ Jenner said with a snort. ‘No-one around here’s rolling in it.’

  ‘No, they aren’t, are they?’ Theo said, thinking out loud. ‘But it isn’t about the money, I think. It’s about a cause. The gold is going to France all right, just not to the Royalists or helping British agents. Someone is a traitor out of conviction, not for pay.’

  ‘How can you possibly know that is what the coins you found were?’ The Rector found his voice at last. ‘One gold coin is the same as another except for the date.’

  ‘Those that were minted in London are marked. It is tiny but quite clear if you know what to look for. But the secret has been well kept,’ Jared said. He reached inside the breast of his coat and produced a gold coin that he held up, glinting in the candlelight. All eyes fixed on it. ‘The French don’t know, the agents themselves don’t know. You did not know until now, did you, Mrs Finch?’

  ‘Annemarie?’ The Rector was on his feet, his chair crashing back. He turned on Jared. ‘You are mad, my lord. Mad or wicked! I will have the law on you for this slander.’

  Jared nodded towards the opposite end of the table. ‘You might first enquire of your wife why she has brought a pocket pistol to dinner.’

  Mrs Finch was on her feet, the deadly little gun steady in her hand as she held it a few inches from Perry’s head. ‘I will not hesitate to use this.’

  ‘Any more than you hesitated to kill my father,’ Hogget said quietly from the other side of the table. ‘He was gloating over his knowledge that your mother was still alive when your father, Sir Anthony Swinburn, married for the second time. How did he find out, I wonder?’

  ‘He helped her run away,’ Mrs Finch said. ‘He thought she would elope with him, the fool. My father tried to stop her interest in the political situation in France. Her parents had supported reform and she did too. Papa became intolerable with his attempts to censor her reading and her correspondence, so she left him, went back to her family in France, joined the struggle for the people.’

  Theo could not see Sir Walter from where he was sitting, but he could see Giles and watch the shock giving way to fury as he realised what this meant to his father, to him and his brother. ‘When did she die?’ he snarled at his aunt.

  ‘June 1793 during the Terror.’ Her smile was chilling as she said, ‘Six years after your birth, Giles dear.’

  ‘And yet you still side with the French?’ Redfern asked. From the corner of his eye Theo could see that he, like all of them, was fixed on Perry’s still form, his white face, the stubby steel barrel pressed against his temple.

  ‘Maman wrote to me, sent me books, taught me well. Under Napoléon the nation is great again, people of all classes have opportunities, the spirit of the Revolution flowers.’

  ‘Who helps you?’ Redfern asked. ‘There must be someone amongst the fishermen and the alehouse keepers of Blakeney. And how did you find out about the agents in the first place?’

  ‘You think I would tell you who my allies are? As to the route through the port, a double agent gave it away several years ago. But I cannot stay here satisfying your curiosity. Come here, Miranda.’

  The youngest Miss Jenner, who had been sitting in wide-eyed silence, gave a squeak of alarm.

  ‘Hurry, you silly chit. Unless you want to see Lord Manners’ brains all over this nice white cloth.’

  Theo caught Perry’s gaze and held it, every ounce of his focus on communicating the need to sit still and not do anything heroic. The Dragoons would have been alerted by the watchers above by now, Flynn and Lieutenant Morefleet would be with them, all armed. If she had decided to take one of the men, no-one would have moved, but this nervous young woman was another matter. They had to get Miranda Jenner away from that pistol before Mrs Finch realised she was cornered.

  ‘You cannot get away with this,’ a voice said from above and they all looked up. The black veil was pushed aside and Will Thwaite stood there. ‘Think what you are doing, think on your sins. Do not make matters worse by harming this innocent girl.’

  She had stepped back to look up. The movement took the barrel of the pistol away from Perry’s head by a few inches and Miranda Jenner, getting shakily to her feet, was still out of reach. Theo dropped his hand to his side, shook his arm and the slim blade slid into his hand.

  Jared had shown him how to do this two years ago, he had practiced with Flynn, but never on a live target. He got to his feet. ‘Listen to him.’

  The barrel of the gun swung towards him, right away from Perry, and he threw the knife. It took her in the shoulder and she stumbled back against the wall as the door banged op
en and Morefleet, his men on his heels, erupted into the room.

  Quite suddenly Annemarie Finch seemed calm as she stood there, the blood running down from the knife in her shoulder. ‘Listen, you fools. You will hear these words sung in Westminster yet,’ she said. ‘Que veut cette horde d'esclaves, de traîtres, de rois conjurés? Pour qui ces ignobles entraves, ses fers dès longtemps préparés?’ Then she raised the pistol and shot herself in the temple.

  Eventually the shouting and the screaming died down. Mrs Giles and Mrs Bishop ushered the half-hysterical Jenner ladies into the drawing room and attempted to calm them down, the Dragoons carried the body out under Morefleet’s supervision and Theo and the others took chairs to the far end of the dining room, away from the blanket that had been thrown over the ghastly mess on the floor. Only the Rector was missing along with Will, who had taken the shocked and shaking man up to one of the bedchambers to try and calm him and offer what comfort he could.

  Theo looked round for Laura, wondering if she wanted to expose herself to the unpleasantness as the Swinburns’ came to terms with what had just happened. Pitkin entered, murmured in his ear that Laura would come in just as soon as she was sure everything was all right in the kitchen and turned to go out.

  ‘You!’ Giles Swinburn pointed at the valet. ‘You’re that damned housekeeper!’

  Pitkin dropped a perfect, and perfectly ludicrous, curtsey and closed the door, leaving Giles fuming.

  ‘What was that she said just before she shot herself?’ Jenner demanded. He was sheet-white, all his bluster gone.

  ‘It was part of the Revolutionary anthem, La Marseillaise,’ Laura said from the doorway and the Swinburns swung round and gaped at her. ‘I think it translates as something like, What do these slaves of traitors and conspiring kings want? For whom have these vile chains, these irons, been long prepared? I think,’ she added with the ghost of a smile, ‘we are the slaves.’

  ‘Laura? What are you doing here?’ her uncle demanded. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Running away from you,’ she responded with a calm that made Theo want to cheer. ‘My legal adviser here,’ she gestured towards Redfern, ‘will be in touch with you, although I expect you will be somewhat preoccupied sorting out the handover of the title and estates to Peter, is it? Or Paul. The one from Lincolnshire, anyway.’

  ‘You – ’ Giles began.

  Redfern stood up, but Theo was before him. He went to her side, took her hand and led her over to sit beside him. ‘I suggest that you moderate your tone and your behaviour towards my fiancée or you will answer to me.’

  He felt the shock in Laura’s body, heard the little gasp before she said, somewhat tartly, ‘It would be helpful if you asked me first, Theo. I was under the impression that you already had a fiancée. This is not the seraglio in Constantinople.’

  ‘My erstwhile betrothed is somewhere out in the Bay of Biscay by now and I hope that seasickness is not spoiling her wedding trip with her husband who is on his way back to the Peninsula with her.’

  ‘Theo! What on earth did you do?’

  ‘Later,’ he said with a smile. ‘And I will go down on one knee and do the thing in style when we are alone, but just for the sake of keeping matters straight with your family, will you marry me, Miss Darke?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she said and slid her hand into his.

  ‘You lied to me, Northam!’ Sir Walter snarled. ‘You and your precious friends. You gave me your word you did not know where she was.’

  ‘Nor did we at that time,’ Jared said. ‘Miss Darke might have been in the house, or not. She might have been in the grounds – or not. And I hardly think, given your behaviour to your ward, that you are in a position to prate about honour. Mr Swinburn.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Redfern said, looking every inch the lawyer. ‘Your uncle was a smuggling parson, your father married bigamously, your half-sister was a traitor and you have been abusing your trust and defrauding your niece.’

  Sir Walter, now plain Mr Swinburn, subsided onto the sofa beside his wife who wailed, ‘Will someone tell me what is happening!’

  ‘Quite simple, Mama,’ Giles said between what sounded like clenched teeth. ‘Father is illegitimate and we are disinherited. Redfern here is about to sue us for every penny that remains and your confounded niece is going to marry Lord Northam. Your sister-in-law has been stealing British gold and killing British agents – have I missed anything?’ he asked with furious sarcasm.

  ‘She murdered my father.’ Hogget, who had been prowling up and down while the Swinburns reeled with impotent shock and anger, came to a halt in the middle of the group. ‘But she did not do all of this single-handedly. We are congratulating ourselves on having discovered the traitor, but while we are sitting around here, at least one person, probably more, are escaping.’

  ‘It was not Mrs Finch who attacked me,’ Laura said. ‘That person was taller and I am certain it was a man.’

  ‘And it seems improbable that she could have overpowered and killed a whole succession of British agents,’ Jared observed. ‘On the other hand a large gang seems improbable to me. This is not smuggling where most of the local population is in sympathy. Keeping the presence of a murderous group in league with the French secret would be impossible for very long, I’d have thought.’

  ‘The person who attacked me was very clean,’ Laura said. ‘Their cloak smelt of leather and horses, but I was very close indeed and their skin… I could smell Castile soap, the kind with no perfume, and cloves on their breath. Does that ring any bells?’ She looked round at the Swinburns and Squire Jenner.

  ‘That damned groom of hers,’ Giles said. ‘Gave me the creeps, something not right about him – too quiet, too clean, always trimming his nails or polishing his boots. Never said anything, I’d swear he was dumb, although I know she talked to him. And I’d wager he’s been between the sheets with dear Aunt the way he looks at her. Looked at her,’ he corrected with a grimace.

  ‘That the fellow who chews cloves?’ Charles, who had shown no sign of following what had been going on, roused at that, sat up and looked round. ‘Don’t like him. Kills things. I mean, hunting’s all right and shooting, but getting yourself all over blood…’ He shuddered.

  ‘What things does he kill?’ Flynn asked, holding up one hand to silence the others.

  ‘Hmm? How would I know? Just saw him the once – went up to Aunt Finch’s to collect Mama’s reticule, she’d left it behind. Went into the stables and there he was, stripped to the waist, sluicing himself off and his clothes in a bloody heap and blood all over him. Looked like it does when they kill a pig,’ he added.

  ‘When was that?’ Flynn asked, keeping his voice calm and unexcited. He might have been enquiring about the weather.

  ‘When?’ Charles stared blankly at him. ‘I don’t know. I went away before he saw me.’

  ‘I do.’ His mother wiped her eyes with her sodden handkerchief, sniffed and seemed to pull herself together. ‘Last Easter. We had dinner at the Rectory on Easter Monday and I left my reticule. Charles went back for it on the Tuesday.’ She took a shuddering breath. ‘Oh, that wicked woman.’

  ‘It would fit,’ Hogget said. ‘An agent went missing around then.’

  ‘Right, in that case we’d best send the Dragoons and Morefleet up to the Rectory to arrest the man,’ Perry said. ‘I’m the local magistrate, I imagine he’ll take someone on my orders.’

  ‘He’d be an fool not to,’ Jared remarked as Perry went out. ‘Do his career a deal of good. Let us hope he gets him alive, Dragoons have a habit of shooting first and asking questions later.’

  ‘You mean before he can reveal who else was involved?’ Laura asked. ‘There has to be someone who was directing agents asking for passage to France into the trap and at least one boat crew.’

  ‘I have had enough of this.’ Theo stood up and held out his hand to Laura. ‘I want to find a quiet, comfortable room to propose properly. One without Dragoons, bodies, infuriated cooks, dis
tressed families – ’

  ‘The back parlour.’ Laura curled her fingers into his and made for the door with a lack of hesitation that made him want to cheer.

  ‘Finally,’ he said as he closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. ‘Peace and quiet and I can tell you that I love you.’ He had promised to go down on one knee, so he did. ‘Laura. Miss Darke, will you do me – ’

  The curtain moved behind where she stood, smiling at him.

  ‘Stay exactly where you are.’ The man who stepped out held a knife in his hand. ‘One word, one movement and I kill her.’

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Fingers closed ruthlessly in her hair, jerking back her head. Laura felt the warmth of the man’s body close behind her, the cool draft from the open window, the cold fire of the knife blade pressed into the flesh of her throat.

  A few feet away Theo knelt amongst the feminine clutter of the little room. A heap of sheets for hemming, a small stack of novels, the embroidery basket, a footstool, side tables and several rather battered comfortable chairs. His eyes were wide and dark, his focus beyond her to the man who stood at her back.

  ‘Let her go. I will go with you if you need a hostage.’

  ‘I think not. Your friends are less likely to risk a shot with a woman in the way.’

  Laura tried to speak without moving her throat against the blade. ‘You are French, I can hear a trace of it in your voice.’

  ‘But yes,’ he agreed quite readily. ‘Now, tell me what they are doing out there. Who are they hunting for?’

  ‘For you,’ Theo said.

  ‘And where do they go?’ He emphasised the question with a jerk at her hair.

  ‘The Rectory.’

  ‘I believe you, it is logical. Then you two will come with me down to the harbour in Blakeney. My crew will be waiting for me, my lieutenant went down as soon as I heard the shot, saw the soldiers. She is dead, is she not?’