Page 34 of Jaxon (Gentlemen of War #4)

Amelia

“Move!” O’Keefe growled and gripped my arm tighter, the pressure stinging as he shoved me forward.

“What are you doing?” I asked, both my steps and voice surfaced unsteady.

He stayed silent, dragging me through the kitchen, the hide room, and out the side door into the darkness—no windows to reveal our path to others. Since the moon remained hidden beneath a cover of low-hanging clouds, the only light came from the scattered torches that lit the perimeter.

I feared he would lead me directly into the woods. Visions of skeletal branches emerged, clawing at me in the blackness, but instead he pushed me in the direction of the stable where I stole a quick glance at the footman-turned-captor. My stomach twisted as I remembered the terror that hit me the moment he appeared at the door of the cellar, his sinister intentions clear.

I sat on one of the bedrolls that had been brought down to rest upon, but sleep would not come. With my knees pulled to my chest, I rested my chin on top, listening intently for any sound to transpire from upstairs. Occasionally, I heard footsteps and muffled voices. Once, I heard Jack’s name get called and my pulse sped up, wondering if the summons was for something good or bad.

“Miss Amelia, love.” Mrs. Gentry came to my side and took my hand. “You should try to get some sleep.”

As I held her look, I saw similar fear reflecting from her eyes. The unknown is such a dangerous place to dwell. “I am worried for them,” I whispered back.

She cradled my hand now with both of hers. “Yes, me too, but worrying does not solve anything. It only takes what little energy we have and devours it in the most useless of ways.”

She spoke the truth, but it did not ease my suffering.

“Have you known Jack for a long time?” I asked, attempting to redirect my thoughts from the pending danger.

She tilted her head as if to recall. “I met him through a mutual friend when he had only been home from the continent for five months and still seemed rather displaced. I often found him in the garden reading books.”

I smiled at the image of seeing a book in his hands. I could not fathom anything more attractive. “I cannot imagine how difficult it would be to lose your memory, not to even know your own name or who you are.”

“Yes, it must have been dreadful.” She hesitated. “Though I am not privy to all of the gentleman’s secrets, I do not believe his memory had fully returned at the time.”

I smiled. “He speaks fondly of you. You have been so good to him.”

She returned my smile. “It is you who has captured his attention these last days.”

The cellar door opened abruptly, and a loud thump and subsequent groan brought me to my feet. I hardly had time to catch my breath before I ran up the stairs to determine the origin of the sounds when O’Keefe grabbed me and pulled me across the threshold and past Mr. Gentry, who was disoriented and moaning on the floor, blood spilling down his face.

After navigating clumsily along the grassy path, we reached the stable doors. Forcing my back against the exterior wall, O’Keefe pointed the end of the gun at my chest. “Don’t move!” he hissed, “Or I promise you, you will regret it.” He unlatched one door, gesturing for me to get inside. In the shadows, deep angry lines appeared on his face and replaced the calm, self-assured demeanor I had grown accustomed to in the last week.

“This is not like you O’Keefe. Don’t do this,” I said.

“Get inside!” he snarled, thrusting me roughly forward. I stumbled over the threshold and crashed onto my knees on the ground. Terror surged through me as I imagined what might follow. I had never encountered anything like this.

Leaning over me, he hissed, “Do as you’re told, and you won’t get hurt.”

I caught the sound of him rummaging in the darkness, then the sharp scrape of flint on steel. Relief washed over me as a tiny flame flickered to life. He ignited a lamp and hoisted it back onto its hook.

I struggled to my feet, unaided. “Why are you doing this?” I demanded.

When his hand clamped around my forearm again, I nearly cried out from the pain. His strength could easily crush me. I trembled beneath his brutal grip. “Please,” I pleaded. “Please don’t hurt me.” He pushed me up against the slats of the first stall. Chesapeake’s stall—Jack’s favorite horse. The horse’s muzzle brushed my hair as if comforting me with a promise of safety.

O’Keefe loomed closer, his shadow swallowing me. My breath was trapped in my chest as he advanced. Stopping mere inches away, he whispered, “As long as Gray does precisely what he should,” his voice easing into a sly smile—dripping with disdain, “you have nothing to fear.”

He reached over my head and grabbed the rope that hung from a post. I feared my heart would thump right out of my chest. Forcefully turning me around, he pulled my arms behind me and tied my hands together.

My body shook.

“What does this have to do with me or Mr. Jack?” I cried.

He scoffed. “You still believe he is a common tradesman?”

“I know who he is,” I whispered.

“Well, then,” he said smugly, “my contingency plan will work precisely as I predicted.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned me around to face him again “I certainly couldn’t use you as bait if he didn’t have any affection for you,” he sneered. “But then again, he could be toying with you like he did all of us.”

My pulse sped up. Where is all this hatred for Jack coming from? “Why do you say this was your contingency plan?”

He clamped down on my arm again and pushed me forward down the center aisle of the stable and past a few more stalls. “If that Frenchman hadn’t awakened…” His scowl deepened and he muttered the rest under his breath. “…And likely identified me.” He huffed with agitation. “I could have continued thinning the numbers unseen. I only meant to delay until the others arrived.”

“More men are coming… like you?” I squeaked, my voice trembling.

He jerked me to a halt and spun me around to face him. “Yes. There are more, and you can blame your lover for that.”

I only stared.

“If Gray had opened up, shared what he recalled from his time at war, we would not have resorted to this.”

“Why does his memory mean so much to you?”

He pursed his lips. He most likely let more slip than he intended. “You don’t know him very well, do you?” he shot back.

I quirked my chin. “I know him well enough.”

He smirked. “Stolen kisses in dark corners do not show a man’s true character.”

My cheeks heated.

“Or maybe it does…”

He may have been around Jack longer, but I knew him better. I know I did. “But Jack has been good to you…”

“Truly?” he retorted. “How would you know? You’ve only been here a week. You think you know him after one week?”

I lifted my chin. “I do know him and he’s a good man.”

“You are a simpleton,” he mumbled. “Gray has many secrets.”

“Everyone does,” I muttered.

“And what’s yours, Miss Amelia?” he grumbled as I cowed beneath his hard stare. “Daddy didn’t buy you a new wardrobe this Season?” He scoffed as he led me toward the back of the stable and forced me to sit on a bale of hay, tying another rope tightly around my ankles. Now I could not even run.

“You kept your deception well hidden,” I said, though I should have kept quiet.

“It was relatively easy until today,” he spoke with pride. “I sent my uncle updates and he waited for me to find out what Gray knew, only the tosser didn’t confide in me.” O’Keefe grew irritated. “I did everything he asked, and it still wasn’t enough for him to trust me.”

His uncle? At the dinner a few nights ago, O’Keefe had said he spent his summers on his uncle’s estate. “You are part of the traitor ring,” I announced confidently.

He glared in my direction. “You think you are clever, don’t you?”

“No,” I whispered. If I had been cleverer, I would have picked up on O’Keefe’s trickery earlier.

He pulled out a pocket watch and tilted it toward the lamp to let the light shine upon it, then glanced out the nearby window. “I received word a fortnight ago that our benefactor rescinded his funding and Bow Street has been asking questions. I refuse to let Jaxon Gray destroy my family.”

“Who is your family?”

He smirked again. “Now, Miss Amelia, if I tell you names, I must kill you. Do you wish to die tonight?” O’Keefe brandished a pistol from his pocket and waved it recklessly in my direction. I held still, fighting the tears that had formed. I knew little about weaponry but knew that with both a rifle and a pistol, he could get multiple shots off before he would need to reload.

“I didn’t think so.” He chuckled.

After another space of silence, he turned and stared at me. “I imagine he knows his little bird is missing by now.”

Little bird . How odd that is the name he used. The same one that Peter called me. Had he been in my bedchamber? Read what little was left of my letters? Tears trickled down my cheeks. O’Keefe is using me to draw Jack in. Will he shoot him then?

“What is taking him so long?” He paced in front of me.

I met his eyes but did not respond.

“I may have overestimated his affection for you,” he growled. “Why did he have to make this so complicated? If only he had just told me what he knew.”

“Knew about what?” I asked, feigning innocence again. If I could get him to reveal more of this dastardly plan, I might be able to help Jack.

He walked back over to me. “You are a sly one, aren’t you?” Crouching down, he ran the tip of his pistol against the exposed skin at my neck, rolling it downward toward my chest. I held my breath. Would he kill a woman? “I know you are smart,” he said. “Do not give me reason to make you disappear.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat but continued foolishly. “The consequence of harming Lord Jaxon or even me as part of the peerage can be severe, O’Keefe,” I softened my voice. “A lengthy prison sentence at Newgate cannot be worth your efforts in the end.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I believe my reward will be quite worth it, Miss. Once I have turned Gray over to my uncle, I will be handsomely paid and away from England by this time Friday.”

He stood up and peeked out the window again. Holding a finger to his mouth, he motioned for me to be silent. “Don’t say a word,” he threatened and strode to the stable door, opened it, and disappeared outside.

Was Jack coming?

No, please no!

I stood up. The knots in the rope were too tight for me to try and loosen. I took a couple of small steps and fell to the ground. Frustrated, I maneuvered to a sitting position just as the door to the stable opened again and O’Keefe walked inside with another man. When they stepped into the light of the lantern, a chill ran the length of my spine. I had never seen this man before. He wore a hat low to his brows, had dark eyes, and a long scar enflamed his left cheek. He was not as brawny as O’Keefe, but taller. I sucked in a breath.

“Looks like your carrot’s tryin’ to escape.” He chuckled as he stepped closer.

“She won’t go far, the ropes are secure.” O’Keefe lifted me up by one arm as if I weighed nothing at all and set me back on top of the bale.

“Why is he taking so long to come?” the man asked as he approached. His gait was slow and measured as if he didn’t quite trust O’Keefe, either.

“He will be here,” O’Keefe assured. “Why didn’t you wait at the dead oak?”

“You said you would have him ready for us.”

“I had to alter the plans.” In my sidelong view, I saw O’Keefe jiggle his pistol toward me. “Did the others come?”

The man dipped his chin. “Your uncle, Brady, and Dixon. Cooper had a runner on his tail that he had to lose. He said he would meet us in town.” The mystery man took the final steps in my direction, standing before me.

There are three more men here? Maybe four?

I swallowed hard and peered upward into the man’s weathered face. His eyes ran the length of me as best they could while seated and a smirk replaced his scowl. I suddenly felt more fear at this gesture than when O’Keefe held the gun to my chest.

“So, who do we have here?”

“Miss Amelia,” O’Keefe responded. “I’m certain Gray will come for her.”

“Yes,” he rubbed his jaw. “She’s a sweet little tart, ain’t she?” The man’s eyes flashed at O’Keefe like a brush fire. “If you’d done what you were supposed to, we’d not be in this position. Groves is livid over having to go through the woods.”

I held my breath afraid to move. Groves? Mr. Groves from London?

“Don’t blame me,” O’Keefe muttered. “You should have grabbed Gray before he disappeared. You were in his house for heaven’s sake!”

“This man’s been a thorn in my side fer too long. If I’d had it my way, he’d be dead ‘fore now,” the man retorted.

My heart sank with the realization that once they had what they were looking for, they had no intention of letting Jack live.

O’Keefe shot a glance in my direction when a door slammed outside. He ran to the window. “Gray’s coming,” he whispered, then looked back at me. “It looks like he is searching for her after all.”

“Good,” the stranger said. “I will be near the front in the trees.” He leaned down in my direction. The stench of tobacco wafted in my direction with each word that escaped his lips. “Don’t yer worry, poppet, I’ll come fer you after.”

He slid out the back door of the stable and disappeared.

Despite the tears that leaked from the corners of my eyes, I watched intently as O’Keefe moved to a dark space beside the door, ready to ambush Jack.

The sound of boots crunching on the ground coming closer to the stable shot a fear through me I had never felt before. “Jack!” I screamed as loud as I could muster, thankful that O’Keefe had not had the foresight to silence me. “Don’t come in! It’s a trap!”

O’Keefe turned his gun in my direction as I dove prone to the ground. A shot rang out over my head just before the door crashed open and a commotion ensued. Shouts, grunts, and sounds indicated a fight. I wrestled with the tied ropes on my hands, but the efforts only injured me more. O’Keefe had tied them too tight.

As the scuffle outside continued, I managed to get to my knees but could not see what was happening. A hand wound around me and clamped over my mouth. I tried to scream when a voice reached my ear. “It is I, Miss Amelia, Zachary.”

The heat in my chest began to rise. “Don’t bother with me,” I said. “Go, Jack needs you!”

“Jack will be fine.”

“What do you mean? He just got ambushed.”

Lord Zachary worked at untying my ropes. “It’s all part of the plan.”

“What plan? They will overpower him… O’Keefe and this other man, a man with a dreadful scar on his cheek. They intend him harm.” I could hardly take a breath and when Zachary had freed my hands I grabbed his sleeves. “Groves, I think maybe Mr. William Groves from London is O’Keefe’s uncle. There were others named, but I don’t know who they are.”

“His uncle, huh?” Lord Zachary rubbed his jaw.

I nodded. “And a man named Brady, I believe.”

“We are aware there are others.” He now untied the ropes around my ankles. “Claude and Diggs are following Jaxon.”

“But why would you let Jack get taken? They could kill him!”

“They aren’t going to kill him until they find out what he knows and who he told. We need them to believe they are in control of this situation. We don’t know how many men are out there.”

I recalled the list of names the mystery man called off. “They mentioned three more besides O’Keefe and the man with the scar.” I replayed our conversation. “And also meeting at an old oak tree.”

Zachary peered over at me. “That’s good to know.” He held my gaze for just a moment. “Don’t worry, Miss Amelia. I promise you, no harm will come to Jack.”

Zachary led me out the rear doors of the stable where Jesse was waiting for us, his arm still bandaged and held close to his body.

“Take her back inside the house but upstairs with Mr. Duncan and Ennis, and keep watch.”

“No!” I cried. “Please, Lord Zachary, I can’t just stand by and watch Jack get hurt.”

Zachary leveled a look at me. It was firm, yet sincere compassion leaked through. “Trust me, Miss Amelia. I will bring him back to you.”

With those words, I drew my first steady breath in ages. “Thank you,” I mumbled as Jesse guided me toward the house. Before stepping inside, I stole a final glance at Zachary as he snatched his rifle and vanished into the woods.

I wanted to cry out but knew it was futile, so I let my tears slip quietly down my face.

Up in Claude and Henri’s room, my coach driver perched in a chair by the door alongside Ennis, both clutching weapons.

“Miss Amelia?” Mr. Duncan’s voice broke the silence. Color flushed his cheeks again and, though he did not look fully himself, each day he appeared stronger. “Are you alright?”

“As best can be, I believe.”

Jesse addressed the men, “Can you keep her safe?”

“I’m certain they can,” I spoke for them, giving Jesse’s hand a tap. “Please go help save your master.”

Jesse dipped his head before he stepped out of the room and disappeared downstairs.

I darted to the bedchamber window and yanked the drapes apart. A lamp flickered dimly nearby. I did not wish to draw attention, but I could not tear myself away. At first, I saw nothing. Then shapes stirred near the tree line’s shadows. I could not distinguish friend from foe. A sudden spark flared on the right as a gunshot crackled.

Then another, and another.