Page 39 of The Secret Word (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #10)

W hen Chris rode into the yard of the inn where he usually changed horses, Billy O’Hara was there, walking to and fro, occasionally slapping a riding crop against his boots.

He strode over as Chris dismounted. “Christopher. Come on. We must get back to your place. I’ve sent my men on ahead.”

He turned on his heel and strode off to the road beyond the inn gate.

Chris followed him, frowning to himself.

What was going on? He very rarely—no, never—saw Billy be anything but under control but there had been a note of possible panic in the man’s voice.

A groom in the inn’s livery drove up beside Billy in a curricle that Chris had noticed as he passed.

The man had been walking his horses slowly along the road, something that wasn’t common but then again, wasn’t unusual.

He might have just been warming them up for work, or cooling them off after a hard haul.

But now, he realized, the man had been waiting for a sign from Billy.

“There you go, sir,” the groom said to Billy, who was taking over the reins. Chris climbed up as the groom climbed down, and Billy set the horses into a fast walk, and then a canter almost before the groom was clear of the vehicle.

Chris fell the last couple of inches onto the seat. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“Your father-in-law,” said Billy, succinctly. “He has persuaded a magistrate to find you unfit parents. He has taken constables to pick up your son.”

“The moral turpitude clause,” Chris said. Damn. The lawyers—his own and Billy’s—had assured him that he need not worry about it. It was intended to protect Clem and the children if he turned out to be the rankest of villains.

Billy nodded. “That’s the one.”

“Is that why you sent for me?” Chris asked.

“So that was it. I did not send for you, Christopher,” said Billy. “Just after I found out about the magistrate, I learned that Wright had sent one of the post riders I sometimes use to your estate. Then he left his own townhouse taking with him a wet nurse, four constables, and his solicitor.”

“And based on that you guessed Wright had got me out of the way by pretending to be you, asking me to come to London on an urgent matter?”

“I had a hunch he’d have sent you away somehow,” Billy said. “I was giving it another fifteen minutes, then going after my men. They have instructions to delay things so I had time to arrive. But best if you are with me. Here’s what I know, what I’ve done, and what I think we need to do.”

Billy shared his plans. They didn’t talk much after that.

Canter, trot. Canter, trot. Chris sat beside Billy, wishing they could gallop all the way, but the horses could become lame if they tried it.

They were traveling as fast as they could—quite a bit faster than Chris had traveled the same distance this morning.

Billy had even thought to have his men arrange a new team half an hour from home, and it took the hostlers less than five minutes to unhitch the exhausted team, hitch up the fresh horses and get them on their way again.

Two and a half hours after he left home, he and Billy drove up the carriage drive, to discover a stand-off on the lawn.

The children, being held by their two nursemaids, were at the center of a ring of servants armed with brooms, spades, rolling pins, and other such implements.

Among them stood men that Chris recognized as Billy’s.

Clem, with Billy’s bodyguard and lieutenant Tiny at her side, was facing her father, and at his back were five men, two of them with pistols, two with batons, and one with an expression that said he wished he was anywhere else, and that he was trying hard to vanish.

Constables, Chris would guess, and the would-be vanisher was the solicitor who had led the team that produced the original marriage agreement.

The older schoolboys, led by Partridge, were approaching from the school side of the house, with determined faces and clenched fists.

Billy didn’t bother with stopping the curricle, but turned the horses to canter across the grass, slowing them so they stopped between the protective circle and Wright and his men.

Wright looked up at the pair in the curricle and screeched, “I have a warrant! You have to give me the boy.”

Chris descended from the curricle in a controlled tumble and hurried to Clem’s side. She grasped his arm, leaning against him in her relief.

“The warrant has been rescinded,” Billy answered him. He scanned the constables. “Which of you is in charge? You, Miller?”

One of the two men with pistols—Chris gave him credit for the fact he was not pointing it at anyone—moved his other hand as if his instinct was to raise it in response to Billy’s question, but his intellect said he was no longer in school. “O’Hara? What are you doing here?”

“I have a letter for you from the magistrate who issued that warrant. Further information has come to his attention, and he has rescinded his approval.”

Billy handed the letter to the constable. Wright tried to snatch it from his hands, but the constable held it up out of his reach and said to his men, “If Mr. Wright tries to prevent me from reading this, restrain him.”

“I’ll have your badge,” Wright screeched, but the constable ignored him.

“The gentleman is correct,” the constable announced after a moment. “The warrant is invalid. It can be torn up, and we, my lads, are for London.”

“No-o-o!” Wright wailed. “This man O’Hara is a criminal, constable. Arrest him. Do your duty. He may have forged that letter. In fact, he must have forged that letter.”

“My apologies, Mrs. Satterthwaite, and those of my men,” said the constable, ignoring Wright. His glance at the assortment of servants protecting the children was almost fond. “If any of you belong in the stables, perhaps you can help us fetch our horses.”

It was over, then, though Wright didn’t accept it, and continued to rant, at the constables, his solicitor, the magistrate, his daughter, Chris, the school boys.

Clem ignored him, and Chris followed her lead.

Eventually, her father left, taking his solicitor with him.

Also, the wet nurse he had brought, who had apparently been sitting in the carriage the whole time.

Clem thanked the schoolboys and went upstairs to feed the children, returning half an hour later to join Chris, Billy, and Tiny for a nuncheon in the dining room. Billy’s other men were being fed in the servants’ hall.

By then, Chris had gathered that Martha had taken the children to the school, hidden them in the attic, and asked the boys to run interference.

“It would have worked, too, if Will had not started crying while the constables were searching the school,” Clem told them.

“Martha and the nursemaids ran again, before the constables could find the entrance to the attics, and were making for our attics when the constables caught up with them. Fortunately, Billy’s men were here by then. ”

“Martha delayed them long enough for Billy’s men to arrive,” Chris realized aloud. “She saved Will.” He would never doubt her loyalty again.

Billy shook his head. “It isn’t over. Wright has withdrawn for the moment, but he has not given up.”

“Mr. O’Hara is right,” Clem said, her voice soft but firm.

“The secret of Father’s success is that he never accepts defeat.

He never gives up. He will find another magistrate, or think of some other way, but he will not stop trying.

” She was oddly calm, but Chris, knowing her so well, could see that she was holding herself together with the last of her strength.

Chris understood. He had not been here for the crisis, but he still felt an urge to find a corner and howl.

Or, better still, find Wright and beat him to a pulp.

“Then we have to find a way to stop him,” Billy said, adding darkly, “One way or another.”

“Mr. O’Hara,” said Clem. “You cannot kill my father.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth quirked up and his eyes regarded Clem with unmistakable fondness. “The lady who taught me grammar would say…”

Clem was clearly in no mood to debate the difference in meaning between “can” and “may”. “You will not kill my father,” she said.

“We could disappear him,” Tiny offered.

Billy nodded, and explained, “He would not be the first person Tiny and I have known who suddenly took an unexpected and involuntary boat trip to the antipodes.”

Chris could see that Clem was considering it.

“Let us keep that as an option, but I would prefer to stop the threat to Will while keeping Wright at the helm of his businesses. I still have a lot to learn before I can run them on Will’s behalf.

Although perhaps after today, your father will leave them elsewhere. ”

That fetched a snort of disbelief from his wife. “Father’s mind is made up,” she said. “He has decided to leave everything to Will. That’s what he will do. He has decided that we are unfit to raise Will. How do we stop him? For he will not change his mind.”

Unless they could prove him unfit to raise their boy. “We need to counter each of the claims he made to prove us unfit,” Chris said. “Then, if we can, we need to find something that disqualifies him.”

“You mean,” said his wife, “apart from being a selfish, mean, old blowhard.”

“None of which are illegal,” Billy said, standing. “And all of which are forgiven in the rich. Tiny, collect the men. We need to get back to town. Christopher, Mrs. Satterthwaite, I will be in touch. Look after those babies.”

*

Father’s next move arrived before evening that same day. “Sir,” said the footman who did double-duty as butler, “You have a messenger from Mr. Wright who insists he must speak to you.”

Clem, who had been feeling utterly relaxed after a lovely afternoon interlude with her husband, felt all her worries crash back in around her. Chris covered her hand with his own and gave her a reassuring smile. “Show him in, please,” he said to the footman.