Page 19

“C onsidering your condition, Callum, we’ll cover the watch schedule.” Crispin looked around the room and considered their strengths and weaknesses. The hunting lodge wasn’t built for defense, but the walls were of sturdy Milton Stone. There were too many windows for his comfort, but there was nothing to be done for it now.

“I told you,” Callum said as he helped Mary-Alice up from the floor. “Nothing’s happened here. We’re safe. Why do we need a watch?”

“Whoever attacked you and whoever’s been bedeviling us is out there. They have killed and I doubt they will hesitate to kill again.” Crispin reminded himself that Callum knew nothing of the events at Grimsby.

“Who did they kill?” he asked, looking around the room.

“A man named Shaw who was working for us in London. They, or their agent, also attacked Birdy on Brook Street and attempted to do so again at the theater. We escaped an arson fire in Grimsby by minutes. How close was that knife to your heart, Callum?”

“Close enough,” Callum said, his hand moving to cover his wound. “I’m well enough to keep watch. Where will you have me?”

Birdy and Mary-Alice rearranged the sick room to accommodate the two women and their children. Crispin’s father was to keep watch from a position inside the coach where he wouldn’t be seen. He’d use a coachman’s horn to signal the house if he saw anything suspicious. Arch volunteered to keep watch over the back entrance, and Crispin took the front door. Callum positioned himself in the dining room, as it had the largest windows. Butterworth was tasked with giving each position an hour or two of rest during the night. He himself slept the day away.

The night passed without incident, other than the onset of thunderstorms. The thunder rattled the windows, but the lightning was useful in lighting up the night sky. Beyond the storm, the sun might have risen, but the sky was still gray and dark when they all retreated to the kitchen for their morning meal and the storm—or storms—continued to rage as rain pounded the windows, lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.

“I told you it was a waste of effort,” Callum groused as he pulled sausages from the larder. “Other than this storm, apparently, nothing happens here. My father hasn’t been here in at least fifteen years. Our biggest worry is running out of food. Or the roof leaking.” He frowned. “Hopefully, that happens first, if anything.”

“I was only able to run to Charlbury once for food,” Mary-Alice explained. “I didn’t dare leave Callum alone for very long.” She reached out for his hand as she spoke.

“Then I hope we have enough for one more day.” Crispin poked the fire so they might toast their bread. “The roads were bad enough yesterday. After this deluge, we’d be foolish to leave for London. What say you, Birdy?”

“We have more food in our hamper in the coach. Loan me some trousers and I’ll go out to snare rabbits. I’ve no wish to linger here, but also no desire to be washed away in a flash flood.” She frowned at the rain lashing the windows.

“I agree,” Mary-Alice chimed in. “I have my baby and I’m safe here. I will not risk his life on the road.”

“One more night,” Crispin agreed, nodding his head. “You’ll feel safer when we get back to Town, Mary-Alice.”

“I was never safe in Town,” she snapped back. “You’re the one who liked Town. I always preferred the country. By the way,” she added, “Where has Father gone?”

“Damn, he must still be sleeping in the coach. I’ll go wake him and get the food hamper.” The lone umbrella at the house was mouse eaten, so Crispin ran to the coach as fast as he could with his coat over his head, trying not to slip in the mud.

“Father,” he said, jumping into the coach. “Wake up, we’re about to break our fast.” His father, lips tinged blue, lay back on the bench, his eyes closed. Damn . Fearing the worst, Crispin reached forward to grab his wrist to feel for a pulse.

“Ah!” his father woke with a start. His voice was weak and raspy as he spoke. “My medicine. I need water for my medicine and my flask is empty.”

“I’ll help you,” Crispin said, as he tried to get his arm around him to help lift him up. “Can you walk?”

“A little. With help, I can make it to the house. I need my miracle medicine.”

“Here we go.” Half-carrying and half-dragging his father, Crispin made a dash for the house. They burst through the door to a sea of confused faces. “Help,” he said, laying his father on the floor just inside the door. “We need drinkable water for his medicine. Butterworth, do you know how much to mix in?”

Frantically searching his father’s pockets, Crispin pulled out an envelope of greenish-gray powder. With no time to waste, Butterworth ran forward with a mug of fresh rainwater.

“This should be enough.” He poured a small bit of the powder into the mug. “Drink this, milord. All of it.” Other than the children, everyone went silent as he was helped to drink the lifesaving liquid.

“Does his heart fail as he sleeps?” Crispin asked.

“Never before,” Butterworth replied, as Crispin’s father took his last sip. “It’s usually after exertion or excitement when his heart beats more quickly.” Butterworth helped his master sit up and helped keep him upright for a moment. “It works quickly.”

“Crispin,” his father croaked out as the color returned to his face. “Check on the coachman. I saw, in a lightning flash, I saw someone standing by the stables. Just for a second. I was coming to tell you when I must have fainted.”

“I’ll check the stables.” Crispin felt for his knife and was relieved to find it back in place at his side.

“I’m coming with you.” Arch Davies produced a thin knife from a leather scabbard hidden inside his boot.

“Stay safe, Birdy,” Crispin said, pressing his forehead against hers. “You must live. Take them all into the woods if you have to.”

At first glance, all seemed well within the stables. The horses, spooked by the storm, were restless but in otherwise good condition. Buckets held feed and there was water in the trough. But there was no coachman.

“Think he’s out having a piss?” Arch asked as he looked around.

“In this weather, I’d piss out the window, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe he’s taking a shit. It’s not a long walk to the privy. We should wait a bit.” As he spoke, another thunderclap shook the walls, and the horses began to stomp and whinny. “You ever seen weather like this before?”

“No, and I don’t like it. Everything is cold, wet, and gray. You stay here. I’m going to see if the coachman is in the privy.”

“Oh, let the man be. I hate when someone comes knocking on the door when I’m doing my business there.”

“I’m going. See what you can do to calm those horses.” Crispin pulled his coat over his head and ran to the stone privy twenty yards away. The door was half open when he arrived. There sat the coachman, the look of surprise on his face marred by a bullet wound between his eyes. The sound of the shot was most likely concealed by the thunder.

“Arch,” he called out as he ran back to the stables and threw himself in the door. Oblivious, Arch was soothing the horses with low rhythmic singing. “We have to get back to the house.”

“The coachman is gone,” he said after they were safely back inside. “Callum, you can handle the ribbons of a traveling coach, can’t you?”

“Where the devil did he go?” Callum asked. “Of course I can drive a team, but it’s ridiculous that he should leave. The nearest village is at least a ten-mile walk. And in this rain? God only knows how long it would take.”

“He’s dead. Shot in the head.” Crispin delivered the news solemnly.

“How long ago, I wonder?” Birdy asked, obviously already planning a strategy against their unseen attacker.

“We have to get out of here.” Mary-Alice ran to pick up Hammond. “We have to leave here right now.”

“Mary-Alice,” Callum began soothingly. “Look out the window. I assure you that the roads are no longer passable and the bridge at Tows Corner is likely to be out. We have some food. I say we fortify the house and stand our ground.”

“We won’t last long with so few weapons.” Crispin racked his brain to come up with a better response. He thought about how best to fortify the lodge. “Pull the shutters and block the kitchen door,” he ordered. “Do you remember how to defeat a siege, Birdy?”

She met his eyes with a confident gaze. “I will lead them to the woods when you say so.”

“I’m confused,” Arch said as he began emptying a tall bookcase to push in front of the window. “As far as you know, it’s one fellow with a very bad temperament. We outnumber him and hold the stronger position.”

“He has a pistol, and for all we know, he has unlimited ammunition. All he has to do is pick us off one at a time, assuming he’s a good shot.” Crispin delivered the cold, hard truth.

“I’ll go out in Arch’s chaise and draw him out,” Crispin’s father volunteered. “He’ll reveal himself or reveal his numbers.” He was looking fully himself again and appeared to have the energy to carry out his plan.

“Why would you do that?” Mary-Alice asked. “It would be suicide.”

“I came here to make things right. If that’s what it takes to keep my children and grandchildren safe, I’m willing to do it.”

“If he was going to storm the house, he should have done so while Arch and I were out in the stables. It makes little sense.”

“Don’t underestimate desperation.” Crispin’s father tried to smile. “Let’s get those windows covered. We know he has a pistol and knows how to use it.”

“Your father’s right,” Birdy added. “Let’s give the man fewer targets while we plan our next move.”

Within an hour, windows were covered and blocked, weapons and ammunition counted, and food divided for rationing.

“I don’t know what to do.” Crispin pulled Birdy into a secluded room and whispered in her ear. “I will not lose my family to a madman. When the time comes, I’ll create a diversion like my father suggested. Take Leander and escape into the woods. I know you know how to survive out there. I’ll find you somehow. You must live.”

“I will survive,” she said, kissing his cheek. “If there is no resolution by tomorrow, I will save our son.”

“Nenokaasi,” he whispered her name with his lips brushing against her skin. “I love you.” The direness of their situation did little to dampen his desire for her, and he pulled her closer. “I need you.”

Looking around one last time for prying eyes, he began lifting her skirt. “I must have you.” Grinding his lips against hers, he urged her arms around his shoulders. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said. “I will not let you fall.”

Once her skirts were out of the way, he braced one hand against the wall and used the other to unbutton his trousers. Moaning softly, she was already wet for him. Plunging deeply into her, he bit his lip to keep from crying out with satisfaction. Hoping the sound of the storm would conceal the sound of their lovemaking, he flexed his hips and thrust again. The pleasure of being inside her was overwhelming, and his movements became frantic.

Burying his face in her hair to keep from shouting out, he could feel she was on the brink of orgasm. As her inner muscles tightened against his cock, he allowed himself to join her in going over the edge. Her breath came in shallow gasps while his knees trembled from effort. The words “I love you” seemed inadequate for his feelings, but he said them anyway. “I love you.”

Lowering her to the floor gently, he helped her rearrange her skirt before putting himself back in order. They stood silently together for a moment longer before he heard someone call his name.

As night approached, they gathered to make plans for surviving until morning. The weather hadn’t improved, making an escape by coach nearly impossible. Knowing the coachman’s fate made deciding on a watch schedule a life or death decision.

“I vote we all stay indoors tonight,” Arch spoke up.

“The coach isn’t far from the door,” Crispin’s father offered. “My flask is full. I’ll keep watch over the front of the house again. The coachman’s horn is in there. If they don’t see me leave, they’ll have no idea I’m in there. If I see anything, I’ll signal you with the horn.”

“It’s too risky,” Crispin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s all we’ve got,” Callum added.

“If his lordship will watch the front. I’ll keep watch over the back from the well house,” Butterworth chimed in.

“This is all my fault,” Mary-Alice cried out. “Someone must have seen me in the village.”

“No, darling, no,” Callum said, putting his arms around her. “I wasn’t careful enough. I must have been followed to your cottage.”

“Perhaps we were followed in and out of Oxford,” Birdy said as Leander began to fuss. “It hardly matters now. The man might have seen Crispin and me with Leander and thought it was Hammond and followed us. We may never know where his information came from.”

“I agree,” Crispin said. “How and why we’re in this situation is unimportant. What we need to do is gather anything that might be used as a weapon. Iron fireplace tools, kitchen utensils, iron pans, stout table legs, anything. It’s all we have. Birdy and I have knives and so does Arch. Callum, do you carry a knife?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve got this.” He reached above the fireplace and pulled down an ancient sword that was displayed there. “Dull as a stick, but we have sharpening stone.”

“I don’t suppose there’s another one of those somewhere?” Crispin’s father asked. “I was fencing champion at school. I can handle a saber.”

“Maybe in the attic.” Callum shrugged his shoulders and then winced in pain. “I’ll get this sharpened,” he said as he left for the kitchen to find the whetstone.

“I’ll help you with that.” Birdy followed him into the kitchen. “It will pain your shoulder, Mr. Mumford. Allow me to help you.”

“Please call me Callum. Whatever you’ve done to Crispin, I approve. He used to make himself ill just from being in the same room as his father. He’s completely different now. He doesn’t even look like the same person.”

“I did not change him. He changed himself.” Lacking oil, she wet the stone with water and began drawing the blade across it. “If things get worse, Crispin may call upon you to help create a diversion so that Mary-Alice and I can escape into the trees with our children.”

“Please,” he replied. “Mary-Alice has been through so much. While she assured me her time in Chipping Norton was happy, losing her son was a cut too deep to heal. She’ll not want to leave me, but I will convince her to go.”

“Have you always loved her?”

“As far back as I can remember. We danced once, the year of her debut. I swear when our hands touched, I knew I would marry her. To have to watch her marry another man almost killed me. I was so proud to be the one to deliver the joyful news of his death. Now look at us. It really isn’t fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” she agreed. “But she has her son.” She kept working on the sword, relieved to have something to do with her hands and occupy her mind.

“I was hoping, someday…,” he said, his voice trailing off. “I was hoping to be a good husband to Mary-Alice and a good father to her son.”

“A noble wish.” She was about to say more when she heard shouting from the other room.

“Callum! The horses are running loose!”

“What the hell? Did you two leave the doors open?” he asked, turning to Crispin and Arch Davies.

“Certainly not,” Crispin growled at him. “It’s windy, but not enough to have opened the stall doors. It’s a trap. And we’re completely cut off from being able to leave, except on foot.”

“He can’t start a fire,” Birdy raised her voice above the men’s shouting. “It’s raining too hard. Simon Turpin can’t start a fire. This time, he can’t burn us out.”

“That’s some good news.” Callum pulled Mary-Alice into his arms and sighed with relief. He met Birdy’s eyes with his own, and she saw in his expression that he was trying to distract the woman he loved from her fear about their adversary. “Say…where has Hammond gotten to?”

His plan worked as Mary-Alice smiled and stopped clinging to him. “I was occupying him with a game of hide and seek,” she said. “He’s discovered how to open the cupboard under the big sideboard. Follow his giggles and you’ll find him.”

Callum made such a show of stomping about outside the cupboard that even Leander began waving his hands with excitement. When Hammond burst out, Callum lifted him high in the air, kissed his round tummy, and handed him back to his mother.

“There’s plenty of feed in the barn,” Crispin told Birdy while the boys distracted the others. “When the horses get hungry, they’ll likely come back. Let’s get ourselves in place for the night watch.” Before he took his post, Crispin scooped Leander up and hugged him tightly.

“I will keep him alive,” Birdy promised.