Page 14 of Second Chances (Intrepid Heroines #3)

Thirteen

P ressing up against the ivy-covered bricks, Allegra pulled her cloak tighter, grateful that she had thought to choose one of a dark hue. She searched the shadows but there didn’t appear to be any sign of movement. It had only been dark for a short while and no doubt Sandhill and his son would wait to be sure the servants had all departed or were safely tucked away in their beds before attempting to enter the townhouse.

The faint sound of a boot scraping gravel caused her to look around to her right. The outline of a figure moving stealthily towards the narrow door set into the garden wall was barely evident against the gloom of the deserted alleyway. Though she could not make out a face, the set of the shoulders and the coltish gait was all too familiar. She was about to step out of her own hiding place when another shape materialized just behind the first one.

“Stop right there, else I’ll slit you from ear to ear.”

Allegra was close enough to hear the rough whisper, and to see the glint of the knife that was now pressed up against Max’s throat. The speaker’s other hand had him firmly by the collar of his jacket.

“You’ve picked the wrong house to case out tonight,” continued the voice. “Now take your hands out of your pockets very slowly—you wouldn’t want my hand to twitch now, would you?”

Max had enough sense to do exactly as he was told.

The blade stayed hard up against his throat as the other man quickly searched the lad’s clothing for any concealed weapon. Satisfied that there was none, he ordered Max to walk on to the gate where he shoved him hard up against the weathered wood, then paused as if to consider his next move.

“You’ve just provided me with a rather ingenious way to throw off the authorities for this night’s work. When they find your corpse inside the garden they will think that a band of thieves quarreled over the loot and came to blows. I imagine they will spend months scouring the stews of Southwark and Seven Dials, but to no avail,” he said with a nasty sneer. “The question is, do I cut your throat now or later? The chances are slim that anyone would stumble over your body….”

Allegra didn’t wait to hear anymore. She couldn’t be sure that Wrexham, hidden somewhere inside the garden, had any notion of what was taking place. Slowly she began to inch her way around to come at Max’s assailant from behind, careful that the soft kid of her slippers made no noise along the broken ground. Lord Sandhill’s son, confident that he had things well in hand, had relaxed his guard slightly. The knife dropped an inch or two away from flesh as he continued to taunt Max with his coming fate. The blade then flashed up in the air to punctuate a point and Allegra saw her chance. Grabbing the villain’s arm, she yanked it back with all her strength and knocked the young viscount off balance.

Max lost no time in reacting as the grip on his collar loosened. He spun around and drove a knee into the groin of the other man. With a grunt of pain, the viscount doubled over and collapsed to the ground like a sack of stones.

Allegra eyed the writhing figure at their feet with great interest. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Max straightened his jacket. “Father taught after my first meeting with this bastard.” He couldn’t restrain himself from delivering a kick for good measure into the ribs of the fallen man. “Not entirely gentlemanly, but effective. Er, what are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you, but explanations had better wait. The viscount is not likely to be alone?—”

The dull click of a pistol being cocked sounded from close by in the shadows. “How very astute of you, Mrs. Ransley. However, explanations are very much in order.” Lord Sandhill stepped out from behind a small tool shed. “And pray, not a word of alarm or the lad will get a bullet in his head. For your own sake, I hope my son has not been badly injured by your attack—he does not take lightly to opposition, especially from females.”

“I am well aware of that,” said Allegra evenly. “But at least he will not be attempting to ravish any female in the near future.”

Sandhill’s eyes narrowed, then he peered more closely at her face. “By God!” he exclaimed in a low voice. “You! I thought I had seen you somewhere before. You are no relation of Wrexham’s. You are that mousy vicar’s daughter.” His expression became even harder as he mulled over his new knowledge. “Get up, Richard.”

His son gave a low moan and pushed himself to his knees. Sandhill reached down and grabbed hold of his collar, hauling him to his feet.

“You hellbitch, you will pay for this,” croaked the viscount, his form still slightly bent over. “When I finish with you, you will wish you were dead.” He turned his malevolent gaze from Allegra to Max. “And you, you sodding little urchin, I’ll—” His words stopped abruptly. “Why, this is the same bastard who was spying on me in Yorkshire! What the devil is going on here?”

Sandhill’s expression became even more serious as he eyed Max. “Who are you?”

Max gave a faint smile and remained silent.

“Richard,” snapped Sandhill. “Take up where you left off if the bloody fool won’t speak up.”

The knife pressed hard enough against Max’s throat that a drop of blood appeared. The lad only clamped his jaw more firmly shut.

Allegra had no illusions about the seriousness of the threat. “I should think twice about murdering Lord Wrexham’s son,” she said quickly.

A low oath escaped Sandhill’s lips. “Wrexham’s son,” he repeated. With a deep frown, he signaled his own son to hold up, then began to stroke his chin as he mulled over the new bit of disquieting information. After a few moments, however, his face became less grim.

“I have no notion of how you sussed things out, but bad luck for you that you did. Who else is involved in this crude little trap you have set?”

His words were directed at Allegra.

“Don’t tell them a thing!” said Max.

“My dear Mrs. Ransley, surely you do not think me so dimwitted that I would believe only you and the boy are here tonight? If you do not wish to see young Master Sloane’s throat slit this instant, you will tell me your plan.”

Allegra bit her lip as she shot an anguished look at Max. “Lord Wrexham is armed and waiting in the garden. The plan was to allow you to take the necklace, then the earl would surprise you and keep you under guard while Max went to alert the constables. I was to be another witness to your misdeeds.” She omitted mention of Lord Bingham and the Runners waiting nearby. Perhaps by some miracle …

Sandhill seemed to accept her account. He motioned towards the narrow entrance in the wall. “Call to him. Bring him out here. And remember, any misstep and the lad is dead.”

“Don’t—” began Max until the viscount’s hand came roughly over his mouth.

Allegra took a deep breath and walked to where Sandhill had indicated. The Marquess positioned himself right up against the stones to the right of the opening, then nodded at her to open the thick wooden gate.

“Lord Wrexham,” she called urgently. “I must speak with you.”

Sandhill then waved for her to step back several paces. There was what seemed a lengthy silence before the sound of someone moving through the bushes was apparent.

“What the devil—” began Wrexham as he slipped through the opening.

Sandhill’s arm came down hard. The pistol caught the earl a sickening blow to the head, dropping him to the ground.

Allegra let out a gasp, but the pistol was immediately in her face. “Shut up!” ordered Sandhill. He turned to his son. “Bring the boy and follow me! I have a plan that will see us through this unscathed, but we must act quickly.”

With a rough shove, he propelled Allegra into the garden, then grasped the unconscious earl under both arms and dragged him inside as well.

“Into the back of the house,” he called to his son. “Hurry!”

Once all of them were inside the scullery door, Sandhill left Wrexham lying on the stone floor, lit a candle and moved quickly into the surrounding darkness. He returned in a matter of minutes, a smile of smug satisfaction on his face.

Maneuvering the earl’s lifeless form down a short hallway, he came to a small, windowless room that served as a storage pantry.

“Bring the others in here,” he said as he dumped Wrexham unceremoniously onto a pile of dusty holland covers.

His son pushed Max forward with enough force to send the lad stumbling, then took Allegra by the arm with a grip tight enough to make her wince. “Let me have just a few minutes with this one alone,” he said to his father.

“Leave off, Richard,” ordered Sandhill. “You’ll have plenty of time to amuse yourself with females when we are well away from here. Besides,” he added with a harsh laugh. “She will soon be ruing the day she ever sought to interfere with us.”

The viscount reluctantly released his hold on her. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, I believe a raging fire is about to start, no doubt caused by the candle of a careless servant. As you can see, there is no window here, and the door is quite thick—and equipped with a stout lock. With all the woodwork and drapery, this place should go up like a tinderbox.” His voice took on a dripping sarcasm. “How very unfortunate that the earl and his son were visiting with his cousin, but accidents happen.”

Sandhill’s son gave a low laugh. “You are brilliant, Father. Should we bind and gag them?”

“Whatever for? There is no one to hear their cries and they will soon be overcome with smoke. Besides, on the off chance that more than just charred bones are found, we wouldn’t want anything to look suspicious. Right now, it will merely look as if they took refuge in here hoping to escape the flames.” Sandhill’s lips curled upward. “Now go upstairs and find the damn necklace we came for while I fetch some lamp oil and enough rags to get a fire started.”

The door slammed shut with an ominous bang, followed by the click of a key being turned.

Allegra immediately fell to her knees next to the earl. Sandhill hadn’t bothered to take the candle from where he had set it down on one of the shelves, and in the faint circle of light she could make out that Wrexham was still breathing, however faintly.

Max was down beside her, his face pinched with guilt. “Is Father?—”

“Yes, thank God, but I’m not sure how badly injured he is.” She took hold of his wrist. “His pulse is weak, but regular. Is there a vial of salts or any type of spirits that you can see?”

Max jumped to his feet and began a hurried check of the jumble of crocks and bottles crammed along the shelves. Suddenly he stopped and sniffed the air.

Allegra had noticed it too. Already wisps of smoke were starting to curl up from underneath the door. There was the sound of splintering wood as more fuel was added to the growing fire outside.

“We haven’t much time.” She was on her feet as well. “Look for a thin piece of metal or stout wire—anything that might fit in the keyhole.”

He managed a weak grin despite the gravity of the situation. “I suppose this is one lesson I will be especially grateful to have mastered.”

* * *

“Hell’s teeth, I wonder what is going on?” Lord Bingham consulted his pocket watch yet again. “I would have thought they would be there by now.”

“Perhaps they decided it was too risky after all,” growled the tall, heavyset figure by his side. “Or perhaps you’re mistaken about the whole thing.” He glanced at the two other men hunkered down in the shadows. “I hope you haven’t dragged us out here for naught, milord. I shall have a good deal of explaining to do to my superior if I’ve been made to look the fool.”

“Have I ever led you astray before, Hawkins?”

“If you had, sir, I wouldn’t be here taking such an unlikely story seriously.” The big man shook his head. “Really, the notion of a high and mighty marquess as a common thief….”

“Hardly common, my friend, but a thief no less. You’ll see.” Bingham turned back to look down the darkened street. There was no sign of disturbance, no untoward noises.

Nothing.

“Wot’s that?”

Bingham’s head jerked around.

One of the men pointed to a wispy column of smoke rising wraithlike from among the gabled roofs. “That ain’t from no chimney.”

Bingham could tolerate the uncertainty no longer. He drew a pistol from the pocket of his coat and indicated for the Runners to follow him.

* * *

Their frantic search had still turned up nothing useful. The candle was burning perilously low and Max was now on his hands and knees, looking behind a stack of crates for anything that might be of use.

“Help me check here,” called Allegra as she struggled to open the doors of a narrow hutch used to store jams and preserves.

As he straightened, Max’s eyes took on a strange expression. Uttering the same oath that his father was wont to use, he rushed straight at her, arms outstretched towards her head.

Allegra feared that perhaps he was becoming unhinged. “Max!” she cried, throwing up her hands to ward him off.

“Hairpins!” he said in way of explanation.

“Why, how very clever of you! That just might work.”

She yanked several from the knot at the nape of her neck and hurried to the door. Max brought over the stump of the candle. Smoke was now beginning to cloud the air and both of them couldn’t keep from coughing as they bent over the iron latch.

“Take off your coat and try to block that crack,” she said with a rising sense of urgency as she worked the thin piece of metal to and fro.

“Is it strong enough?” ventured Max after he had told as he was told.

Her jaw tightened. The wood of the door was already becoming warm to the touch. “See if you can rouse your father. We are going to have to make a run for it.”

A low groan had already given voice to the fact that the earl was coming around. As Max approached him, he had already lifted himself on one elbow

“Hell’s teeth—” he said thickly, then succumbed to a fit of coughing as he took in a lungful of smoke. His brows came together as he recovered his voice. “Max! What the devil are you doing here?”

His son helped him into a sitting position. “Ah, perhaps we should wait until later for explanations. Right now we are in danger of being?—”

“It’s free!”

“What’s free?” demanded the earl as he felt gingerly at the lump on his head. “And what are you?—”

“The door bolt,” she explained. “Sandhill has locked us in a pantry and set fire to the townhouse. I’ve just now managed to get the lock open, but it’s rather hellish out there. Can you walk?”

The last bit of information seemed to clear the cobwebs from Wrexham’s head. In answer to her question, he scrambled to his feet and limped over to the door. Shouldering her aside, he opened it a crack, then slammed it shut.

“What is the quickest way out?”

“To the right.”

He took a quick glance around the pantry. The guttering light of the candle showed a pile of damask napkins shoved in between two wooden crates. Snatching up a handful, he passed one to Max and Allegra.

“Keep this over your face.” He grasped Allegra’s right arm and ordered Max to take hold of the other. “Stay together. I’ll go first?—”

“Let me lead, Father. I know the way and you don’t.”

Wrexham hesitated for only a moment, then yielded his place. “Very well.”

Max placed his hand on the latch. At a nod from his father, he flung the door open and pulled the others into the burning hallway.

Fueled by several shattered bottles of lamp oil, the pile of smashed chairs and soiled linens thrown together by Sandhill was now engulfed in flames that licked up close to the ceiling. It had set the wainscoting on fire as well, and the smoke was so thick it was difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. Max picked his way towards the rear of the house as fast as he dared. Up ahead, after one more turn to the left, lay the scullery and safety.

Suddenly the earl jerked Allegra nearly off her feet while reaching out to catch hold of Max’s shirt and yank him back as well. A blackened beam came crashing down just steps in front of them, sending a shower of burning embers into the air.

“Is there another way out?” yelled the earl over the din of the roaring fire.

Allegra indicated the hallway to the right. “This leads to the front of the house. Perhaps the fire hasn’t had time to spread.”

“We shall have to chance it. The other way is far too dangerous. Follow me.”

Sandhill, however, was leaving nothing to chance. The drapes and stuffed chairs of the small sitting room ahead on the right had been doused and set aflame. On the left, the drawing room had suffered the same fate. An acrid black smoke filled the air, its noxious fumes sending them all into paroxysm of coughing. Wrexham felt rather than saw a closed door in front of him and wrenched it open. It led into a small sitting room off the entrance foyer where the situation seemed marginally better than what lay behind them.

“In here!” cried Wrexham, pushing first Allegra, then his son through the doorway before slamming the door on the flames licking at their heels.

Max caught Allegra as she stumbled against a delicate mahogany sidetable and dragged her across the way, towards the other doorway where the vague outline of spindled staircase ghosted in and out of the swirling smoke. As the earl made to follow, the heavy velvet drapes burst into flame, sending him staggering back to avoid being badly burned.

“Richard!” The shout was barely audible above the crackle and roar of the fire. “Come away now, else you will trapped!”

The dim rectangle of light disappeared as the front door slammed shut.

Allegra didn’t see the dark shape racing down the stairs until it collided full force with her, sending both of them sprawling to the parquet floor. A small object, its surface sparkling wildly in the light of the flames, slid across the polished wood and disappeared under an inlaid satinwood console.

A grunt of surprise turned into a roar of fury. “You again!” screamed the young viscount as he sprang to his feet. “You meddlesome bitch. This time you’ll not escape to interfere in my plans again.” The knife whipped out of his pocket and he took a step closer to where she lay.

“Allegra!” cried Max, trying to locate her in the thickening smoke.

She managed to elude the viscount’s violent thrust with a roll to one side. By the time he had recovered his balance, she, too, was standing. He came at her again, this time more slowly, as if he meant to savor the experience.

“A pity I don’t have time to finish what I began a year ago before I slit your ugly throat,” he said with a sneer. “I believe it would give me greater pleasure than usual?—”

A deep voice cut him off.

“Yes, well we know how you like to prey on females and boys. Let us see how you much you enjoy being matched against someone able to offer more than token resistance.” The earl stepped from the swirling blackness and placed himself between Allegra and the viscount. He motioned with both hands. “Come on. Or are you as cowardly as most bullies?”

The viscount began to move uncertainly to his left, knife held at the ready. “Afraid of an old bookworm? Hah! Not likely.” His bravado sounded rather forced, however, and the look in his eye betrayed something akin to fear.

“Allegra!” called Max. “Father!”

“Stay clear, Max,” ordered his father. “I’ll handle this.”

Wrexham matched the younger man’s movements, his gaze never leaving the outstretched blade. The first feint only drew a grim smile from him.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

The blade flashed again, this time aimed straight for his ribs.

Again, he avoided it with ease, his fist landing a stinging blow to his assailant’s jaw.

The viscount swallowed hard and began circling in the other direction. He tried a quick, oblique thrust, but met nothing but air. A growl of frustration escaped his lips. After another step to the side, he suddenly charged forward.

Wrexham spun away, but the movement caused his weak knee to buckle for a moment, leaving him vulnerable to another attack. The viscount turned and was about to slash at the earl’s midsection when the tip of a parasol, its fabric a mass of flames, came hard across his shoulders. He gave a yelp of pain as he flailed with both arms to knock it away.

The earl slipped out of danger. “For God’s sake, Allegra, get out of here!”

She picked up another parasol from the carved wooden stand next to her. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”

Wrexham muttered something unintelligible, then his gaze shot back to the viscount. The younger man had recovered his equilibrium but appeared confused on what to do next.

“For just once, I would appreciate it if you would heed my wishes without argument,” said the earl very deliberately. As he spoke to her, his boot lashed out and caught the viscount flush on the knee. The blow knocked the younger man to the floor and as he fell, the knife went skittering into the blackness.

“Max,” called the earl. “Get Allegra and yourself out the front door NOW!”

His son finally managed to fight his way through the choking clouds to Allegra’s side.

“I don’t care what he says, I’m not leaving your father,” warned Allegra in a low voice.

“Of course not,” whispered Max. “You don’t truly think I would abandon?—”

The front door flung open. “Richard!” The voice was in a near panic. “The smoke is beginning to attract attention.”

“I’m afraid your son is experiencing some difficulty in joining you, Sandhill.”

“Wrexham?” cried the Marquess in disbelief. For a moment his silhouette was frozen against the night. Then he turned and fled without another word.

The viscount was back on his feet, his jaw slack with shock as he realized his father had abandoned him. He fell back a step as the earl advanced, then another and another. In another instant, he was in full flight, making for the open door.

“Family loyalty,” muttered the earl in disgust.

A piece of burning debris fell from the ceiling, reminding Wrexham of his own priorities. Instead of pursuing the viscount, he turned back into the whirling smoke and quickly located Allegra and Max. With one hand firmly wrapped around each of their arms, he guided them—none too gently—out to safety.

The clear night air was a blessed relief and they struggled to clear their lungs of the noxious smoke and fumes.

When he had finally ceased coughing and wheezing, Max was the first to speak.

“Father, I can explain?—”

“Milord, it is I who should—” said Allegra at nearly the same time.

Wrexham held up his hand for silence.

Both of them stopped speaking.

“Both of you obeying, and at the same time—I must be dreaming,” quipped the earl. He slowly reached out his hand and touched the cut on his son’s neck. “Are you all right?”

Max swallowed hard and nodded.

He turned to Allegra. “And you?”

“Yes,” she answered in a near whisper.

He pulled them both into a fierce embrace. “I am sure I will hear an earful of explanations, but they can wait for the morning.”

“Leo!” Lord Bingham came racing down the street at a dead run and clattered to a halt in front of them. “Good Lord, are you unharmed?”

Wrexham looked from his own singed clothing to the sooty faces of his companions, then back to his friend.

“Well, it’s about bloody time.”