Page 76 of Ondine

But then he dismissed her from his thoughts, for he was worried once again about how they should find John Robbins a second time. Robbins would now be forewarned, and if he was the least hesitant, he could surely make a true disappearance into any number of hellholes within London.

* * *

Justin had no idea of it at that time, but he should have been much more concerned with Anne.

She had not left the alehouse, but retreated to that room beyond where drink was imbibed with a heartier measure; where deals were made, fantasies brought to light, if only for an evening.

Hardgrave was sitting there, bleary-eyed, laughing as he diced with the owner of the establishment.

Two very young girls sat swaddled at a bench beyond the gaming table.

Anne absently ascertained that Lyle had planned those two for his night’s amusement, yet he felt the night so young he had ample time to gamble before wenching.

She had no patience with any of it.

Ignoring the game at hand, she rushed up to him, hands on her hips.

“We’ve got to go!”

“Go!” Hardgrave growled with annoyance, casting her an impatient glance. “Why, I’ve just begun—”

Anne leaned down and whispered to him. He looked up at her with a gaze of bleary confusion, then slowly seemed to comprehend her words.

“Where?” he asked her hoarsely, pushing back his chair to rise.

She smiled, very aware that she had his full interest. She placed a hand upon his arm, treating him as she might a small child.

“Now, Lyle!” she cajoled. “We mustn’t race off madly—and chance this thing! We must think and plan carefully, and then set to work. There is a way—”

“So you told me before!” he snapped harshly.

“Lyle! Come, now, we must be alone to talk. Perhaps this will be our very last chance, so we must take care. I do have an idea.”

Hardgrave groaned. “Your last idea came near to setting me in the Tower!”

“But we’ve better forces working with us now; I think we’ll find ready accomplices.”

“How do you know all this?”

She brought her lips to his ear, whispering heatedly.

“I overheard a telling conversation! Justin Chatham was here—I tell you I know what I heard! And they are both very vulnerable. Warwick and his golden girl! Lyle, she is no commoner—yet better, still, for our designs. Oh, Lyle! Think on it! Feel it! Feel how dearly you want revenge on him, and think how dearly you crave her. Lyle, this strange partnership of ours may yet bear fruit. The girl for you, and Warwick, wholly mine, at last!”

Hardgrave tensed and reddened, fighting emotion.

He dropped his dice on the table and grinned at the owner of the place.

“Ye’ve made money on me tonight, Taddy, and I can’t even sample the goods.

Good night to you, lasses.” He swept his hat to the girls on the corner bench.

“’Twasn’t for lack of temptation, ladies! ”

Anne caught him by the lace lapels on his frothed shirt, determined to get him out then; they needed some secretive and careful planning. Ah, she could almost feel Warwick in her arms again, desperately in search of solitude after the loss of another bride.

Hardgrave stumbled, then caught her arm, and together they left the alehouse. Outside, the clear cold air sobered him quickly, and he gazed down at Anne pensively.

Ah, yes, this strange partnership of theirs! It had nothing of love—yet it went deeper than that emotion. It was based on more than sex, more than an equal delight in sampling all that the world offered with no pretense.

It all centered upon Chatham—upon fostering lust and vengeance.

“Lyle! Think on it! That little witch of his made her appearance into our lives on the very day of your joust with Warwick! The joust you lost! She was there—running! Things do come full circle, do they not? Your greatest vengeance will be to take her from him!”

Lyle gazed into her scheming eyes, aglow with excitement for the future.

“Mmmm,” he murmured. “As we planned it before, I shall have her—while a death certificate is forged. And you, at last, will have Chatham.”

“Aye!” Anne breathed joyfully. “He’ll forget her in time. Oh, I know that I can make him forget her! I shall make him happy, I can please him; I can please any man.”

“I don’t doubt it, my dear,” Lyle Hardgrave muttered. “I don’t doubt it at all.” Dear Anne, he thought in silence, that is just where we part ways . . . You see, I do not want him happy again. I want him dead. Stone dead, like the walls of Chatham itself . . .

“I am still at a loss,” he told his most perfect conspirator as he raised a hand for his driver to bring his carriage forward. “Our peasant girl is a lady, returned to her home. How shall we bring her forward—what accomplices?”

Anne moaned impatiently. “Do you remember nothing of that day?”

“Only that I was beaten,” he retorted bitterly.

“The Duke of Rochester was slain that day for treason against the king’s very person!

Aye—you probably were too busy sulking to have known most of it!

’Twas the same day that Genevieve died, so I remember it all very well.

Ondine, the silly nit of a girl, ran, and her family estate fell into hands that coveted it well!

A relative took it over, an uncle or somesuch person.

I believe from what I heard that she’s returned home, and Warwick has gone there—as a servant, no less!

There must be some grave dissension—I heard tell of a cousin she was to marry, but refused.

“Now surely, my darling lord, the densest man must see between these trees! The man who has taken over the property will not want it returned to the rightful heiress! And it’s suspect that he would want the son to marry her now, lacking any knowledge of where she has been.

I should think that she might easily, easily be purchased! ”

“I would think that he would prefer her dead.”

“Nay, not dead! Just gone. We must think of something to promise him, that she will be taken from the country, never to appear again. And when you tire of her, such a thing can easily be managed!”

“As in the last time, Anne?” Hardgrave taunted.

She lifted her chin in the air. “Are you a coward in truth? Still afraid of Warwick Chatham?”

Hardgrave went rigid and a pulse ticked against his throat; she knew she’d hit the right chord.

“Let’s get near this place, then, shall we?” he demanded thickly. “And get a message to this man that we might have, er, mutual interests.”

“Aye, let’s. And let’s do it in a hurry!” Anne purred.