“You will tell me all about it over coffee. Sit.” He poured her a cup and handed it to her. “Maddy is packing your things, and we will all depart shortly afterwards.”
Donna said, “Eeep. I have to go up and pack!” She grabbed Robby by the hand and pulled him along.
“Why do I have to go up with you?” he complained. “Want to sit and chat with Bess’s father, tell him about the events of the last couple of days, and have a bite of breakfast with him.”
“Bess will tell him, and you already had a full breakfast.” She gave him the ‘I will kill you if you don’t come with me’ eye, which Bess saw and giggled silently over as she watched them leave.
Her father turned back to her and nodded. “I see that you have been enjoying yourself immensely while you are here.”
“Yes, Papa, I do so hate to leave for London. Must we?”
“Yes, we must,” he answered softly. “Saw Fleet yesterday. Said he was on his way to London as well. Said to tell you he looks forward to waltzing you about, if you promise not to step on his feet.”
“Horrid, odious Fleet. I have never stepped on his feet,” Bess returned with a shake of her head and a laugh.
“And,” he said, eying her quizzically, “as I mentioned, the earl should be there shortly after we take up residence.”
She shrugged and said, “As to the earl, I doubt he will even bother with us when he gets to London. Has his own set, doesn’t he?” In spite of what her heart told her, the thought had crossed her mind that she would lose him once in London.
“He did, but I rather think things are a bit different now,” her father said and gave her an odd look.
“Whatever do you mean?” Hope lined her words in spite of the cool façade she had meant to maintain.
“We shall see,” her father answered.
Bess sipped her coffee as she mulled over how she would respond to this when the butler, Gideon, prevented any further comment as he stood at the open doorway and announced, “Mary Russell and Mr. Bernard Holland.”
Bess had forgotten about them and nearly choked on her coffee. She turned to her father and said, “This is it, Papa, and forgive me now for I must do my part—I shall explain it all later.”
~ Nineteen ~
THE EARL’S COACH lumbered down the Post Road. His driver, he knew, would be watchful and ready. Not one, but two guns rested in his lap as he listened for the sound of approaching horses.
He didn’t have long to wait.
He knew his man was desperate enough to try this in broad daylight, he knew his man had hired two screws to ride with him, and he knew Holland would not leave this to chance but take part in it himself.
As it turned out, he was right.
The sound of three horses, their hooves thundering across the short stretch of field from the woods to his left, approached at a heady pace.
He could see they had scarves tied around their faces. All wore nondescript dark clothing and brandished guns.
His own men followed at a distance, but he knew at the first sound of gunfire they would ride hard and arrive within moments. It was his driver’s job to fire off a shot as soon as the riders approached.
An explosion in the air gave notice that the first part of his plan had been accomplished. The coach slowed to a halt, and the earl heard Holland’s voice, though he tried to disguise it, say, “Stand and deliver!”
The earl opened his door slowly, surveyed the three on horseback, and said, “Och, but what would ye be wanting me to deliver?” He then jump down in front of one of the men’s horses, waving his hands wildly as he landed so that the horse reared and the rider lost balance. He took aim and shot the fellow, and even as the rider fell to the ground unconscious he had the horse’s reins, swinging the horse around to give him cover as he aimed his second pistol. “Aye then, mayhap ye were in the wrong of it, and ’tis ye who must deliver,” the Earl of Dunkirk said with a sneer.
Holland leveled his gun at the earl, but his hand was shaking. He had no cover from the other man he had hired, for it had been the man’s brother who had been shot, and he was on the ground screaming his brother’s name. “Ray … Ray … Lord bless ye, Ray … there, there ye ain’t dead …” He hugged him and produced an anguished cry from Ray. At that point, three of the earl’s men rode up, guns leveled and a threat in their body movements.
The earl looked at them, nodded, and looked back at Bernard, who lowered his gun as the earl said, “I think it is over, doona ye think so? I tell ye why, Bernard—I may call ye Bernard, may I not? Sure then, we be well acquainted, and here it is for ye to chew. The boy isn’t here. He is already safe with his father, and his father knows what ye and Mary meant to do with his only son. He wishes to avoid scandal. But he means to handle this to keep his boy safe. So this is what he proposes. He will forget these unfortunate incidents if ye leave him and his son in peace. He never wishes to see either of ye again. Ye have been removed as guardian, and I am honored to now hold that position. However, upon the squire’s death, he has provided for Mary Russell, though she deserves to starve in a gutter, and he has also written in a small living for ye. But he wants ye to know he despises ye both, and if anything happens to the boy, ye both lose it all. So, if I were ye, I would make certain Thomas remains safe all his life.” The earl shrugged. “What is it to be, for I tell ye, if it were my decision, I would throw ye to the beasts and let ye die in debtors’ prison.”
* * *
Holland’s eyes blazed with fury and hatred, and he made up his mind then and there that he would, in fact, do what Sally Sonhurst had begged him to do. And he knew just how he would accomplish the deed. It gave him great pleasure to think of the earl tied to a woman he would be miserable with. The earl had foiled his plans to secure a good part of his uncle’s inheritance, and that after he had taken such pains to convince Mary to go along with his plan. She hadn’t known he planned to kill the boy, had thought they’d only give him over to a sailing vessel headed for Australia. He wanted the large payment Sally had promised him, yes, he needed it, but he needed revenge as well.
“Agreed,” Holland said with a growl. “Damn your soul, agreed, though I can’t speak for Mary.”