Captive Hearts Page 11

  “You need to take your own advice and walk away,” he warned.

  Barlow shouted a warning.

  Matthew turned at the streak of movement he caught out of the corner of his eye, another attacker approached from his left. He swiped at Matthew with a knife.

  Matthew dodged to avoid the blade then grabbed the man’s arm just above the wrist and jerked him forward throwing him off balance and slamming him against the brick building face first. Turning, Matthew drove an elbow into the heavier man’s back hard enough to mash the air from the attacker’s lungs. The man dropped his knife and fell to the ground gasping for breath.

  Matthew scooped up the knife as the wiry one closed in with a downward thrust that ripped through the fabric of his sleeve and grazed the skin beneath. Skill guided the upward thrust of his own blade catching the man between the ribs.

  The assailant caught his breath and staggered back

  in pain. Blood, black in the dim light, gushed from the wound, and he pressed a hand to it. He turned and staggered away, down the alley.

  The two men riding shotgun atop the coach with Barlow dropped from the driver’s seat of the coach.

  Flintlocks in hand, they ran past Matthew in pursuit of the heavier attacker who had gained his feet and fled down the street.

  Barlow reached Matthew, and paused outside the alley to offer him a pistol. “I couldn’t get a clear shot, Captain Hamilton,” he said his tone apologetic.

  “It’s all right Barlow. I was a little busy myself.”

  “I could see that—bloody bastards.” Barlow held the lantern aloft and took one side of the alley and Matthew took the other. They followed the blood trail down the garbage and sewer strewn passage.

  “He’ll need help once we find him, Barlow.” The trail came to an abrupt end one block over. The two guards came toward them from down the street, breathing heavily.

  “He caught the back of a coach that was pullin’ away as we rounded the corner, Cap’in Hamilton. We couldn’t see nothin’ about it, only that it was black,” one of the men said when he had caught his breath.

  “You did your best, men. We’d best report the incident to the magistrate, then go home. Barlow, would you happen to know who that may be?”

  “Aye, Captain Hamilton. ‘Tis Mr. St. John, sir.” Until that moment, Matthew had refused to think about the repercussion he might face for defending himself if the man died and his body was found. St. John, being Rudman’s flunky, could once again twist the truth in order to imprison him. As badly as he wished to avoid it, he had to report the incident.

  “We’d best get back to the coach then and get it done.”

  “Yes, Sir.

  ****

  Katherine felt constricted by the walls of the house, the servants, even the clothes on her body seemed to be squeezing the breath from her. Grabbing a shawl from the back of a chair, she stepped out onto the balcony to breath

  in the chilly night air.

  She had done it. There was no turning back. By tomorrow every man woman and child, or at least as many of them as she could reach, would know the face of one of the men responsible for her family’s death. She was certain that, by now, every print was tacked up for the world to see. Tomorrow, when the first papers she had had printed were sold upon the street, everyone, high and low, would be able to recognize him and know what he had done. And then? Someone would report to the watch patrols or perhaps one of the magistrates, and he would be brought to justice. He would lead them to the others.

  He had to. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. He had to. She wiped them away with the hem of her shawl.

  She had not allowed herself to think about how Matthew and the Willinghams would view what she had done. She had done what she felt was right, what she had felt had to be done. And for the first time all day she had time to reflect how it would affect Matthew and the Willingham’s. Gossip would abound. She would become an embarrassment to them and to Matthew. She wouldn’t be able to bear facing Matthew’s censor for having lied to him. Talbot and Clarisse’s disappointment in her would be just as bad. After they had embraced her as one of their family, she had stabbed them in the back with a letter not a knife. They would resent her for that, and she could not blame them.

  She would have to send a note to William. They would have to leave for Summerhaven tomorrow, after Matthew left for his ship. If she distanced herself from them, it might spare them the worst of it.

  Her breath escaped on a sigh, forming a plume of white. The cold moist air around it swallowed up the vapor. Katherine bent to rest her forehead against the concrete balcony railing and fought against the tears that threatened once again. For one week and three days, she had known what it was to be a part of a family again.

  That would all be gone tomorrow.

  ****

  Lord Rudman lived behind high walls. Matthew wondered as they followed the cobbled drive through the gate why the man bothered, since he could not keep his

  wife in, and he couldn’t keep her suitors out. Since returning to Willingham’s from prison, he had become privy to several rumors about Jacqueline Rudman and her penchant for straying from her marriage bed. At the time he had known her, she had not been so focused on self-destruction. He wondered what had happened to change her.

  He had little time to ponder the thought as the flat façade of the house came into view. Lanterns on poles lit the drive and steps. The large evenly spaced windows spread across two stories in symmetrical rows. The door, in the center of the ground floor, framed by half columns holding a pediment above, looked too small for the rest of such a grand house.

  A tall, thin man in black answered the door at his knock, his hollow cheeks and eyes appearing ghoulish in the lantern light.

  I’m here to speak with Mr. St. John. I was told he was here to see Lord Rudman. My name is Matthew Hamilton.”

  Looking down his long thin nose the man asked,

  “Have you an appointment with his Lordship, sir?”

  “No, I haven’t, but I’m here to report a crime to St.

  John. He is one of the magistrates here in London?”

  “Yes, sir, he is. Why don’t you come in, and I’ll send one of the maids to the library with a note.” He took a seat in the wide entrance hall to wait and watched as the butler wrote the note and sent it on its way. To block out the dull throb of his injured arm, Matthew studied the ceiling design and counted the railings of the dark mahogany banister that ran down each side of the staircase. He had begun to grow restless when the hurried tap of a woman’s shoes on the gray marble floor drew his attention.

  Jacqueline Rudman paused to speak to the butler.

  Her pale curls looked glossy beneath the light of the chandelier overhead. The bodice of the pale green gown she wore was gathered beneath her breasts in such a way that it came together between them. The neckline plunged dramatically displaying a wealth of pale creamy skin. As she turned, Matthew glimpsed one pale rose

  nipple as it peeked above the fabric.

  Sitting beside a table within the shadows, she didn’t see him until she was almost upon him. The genuine surprise and delight he read in her face had his stomach sinking.

  “Matthew, what are you doing here?” She approached with both hands extended as though to grasp his, and he swiftly took just one.

  “Lady Rudman. Good evening.” He bent over her hand briefly.

  “There’s no need to be formal, Matthew. We are, after all, old friends.”

  “I’m not here on a social matter, Jacqueline. I’m here on a matter of business with St. John.” Her pale brows rose. “What kind of business?”

  “I’m sure you’d find it uninteresting. I’m waiting for his meeting with your husband to end.”

  “Yes, of course.” She laid a hand on his sleeve, then with a frown turned it palm up. Her soft gasp had the butler stepping close to observe them. ”You are bleeding, Matthew.”

  He looked down at his arm. He parted the fabric of his c
oat where the man’s knife had torn through it. He was surprised at the depth of the cut. He removed a handkerchief from one of his inner pockets and offered it to Jacqueline. “It’s just a scratch, but perhaps you should keep your distance. I should hate to ruin that lovely gown.”

  “Nonsense.” She wiped her hand clean with the handkerchief. Richard, have someone bring a basin of water and some bandages for Captain Hamilton.”

  “Yes, Madame.” The butler bent his head and went down the long wide hallway toward the back of the house.

  “You must take off your jacket, Matthew, so we can clean the injury. Come in here.” Jacqueline pulled at his uninjured arm.

  “Here will be fine, Jacqueline.”

  “No, here does not suit at all. I have guests coming any moment. I do not want them upset.” Reluctantly, he allowed her to pull him into the room.

  He looked about the drawing room taking in the white paneled walls with their gold tipped relief designs. Two

  Chippendale sofas were arranged before the fireplace with numerous smaller chairs curved inward on each side. A secretary sat against one wall, the books enclosed on either side of it protected by glass doors. The rug beneath his feet was thick, the colors rich. Jacqueline had married a man who could easily provide well for her, and from the look of everything from their home to the gown she wore, did. He shed his torn jacket and draped it across the wooden back of a Sheraton armchair. His shirtsleeve looked worse for wear, but had staunched the bleeding to some degree. He pulled the cuff back to view the injury.

  The four-inch cut bled sluggishly. The edges needed to be drawn together with a few stitches.

  “What happened Matthew?” Jacqueline asked standing close as though fascinated by the cut.

  “That’s what I’m here to speak to St. John about.” Jacqueline frowned, a speculative light flooding her green gaze. “Surely Avery had nothing to do with your arm being injured.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I doubt St. John will listen to anything you have to say. I fear Avery has colored his perception of you. My husband has not completely forgiven you for taking liberties when you first arrived from Charleston.” His jaw tightened with anger, especially virulent because he had to swallow it back. “You know damn well, I didn’t take liberties, Jacqueline. I tried to convince you to leave the Caroline that evening without offering you insult.”

  “I was angry, Matthew. After the relationship we had enjoyed the year before, you dismissed me out of hand.”

  “I greeted you amiably, offered you refreshment, and then sent you on your way, as I would have any other married woman. I don’t have affairs with married women, Jacqueline. I won’t come between a man and wife, it only stirs the pot.”

  Jacqueline sauntered up against him. Careful not to come in contact with his bleeding arm, her fingers smoothing the tails of his stock as she leaned slightly forward to show her décolleté at its best advantage. Her breasts were all but exposed in the gown. Matthew

  wondered why Rudman would permit his wife to display herself in such a manner for anyone but himself. Matthew was surprised how unaffected he was by the sight.

  “After all we shared that fall, you cannot blame me for wanting to recapture some of that excitement. You are the most accomplished lover I have ever had. And you remember how good things were between us.” He stepped away from her and turned to present the injured side of his body to her hoping the threat of bloodying her gown would hold her at bay.

  “We are both married now, Jacqueline.”

  “What is it you want, Hamilton?” Avery Rudman entered the room, a harsh scowl drawing his already bulldog-like features into even more folds. St. John followed on his heals. The magistrate’s eyes narrowed, his long thin face, badly pitted by scars, taking on a tight closed look as he recognized Matthew. His thin, loose-limbed frame looked almost fragile next to Rudman’s bulk.

  Matthew turned to Jacqueline. “Please excuse us, Lady Rudman.”

  “Richard has not brought the water and bandages yet. I will see what is keeping him.” He murmured his thanks. Jacqueline walked through the door, the fabric of her gown making a swishing sound.

  She flashed him a coy smile as she drew the portal closed.

  Avery Rudman scowled at the exchange and turned a hostile gaze upon Matthew. “Why have you come?” He sounded no more welcoming now that his wife was gone than he had before.

  Matthew nodded toward the magistrate. “I was told Mr. St. John was here.”

  “So he is.”

  “Then I’m here to see him. If you will excuse us, Lord Rudman.”

  St. John’s dark eyes narrowed. “His Lordship can stay. You have nothing to say to me he can’t hear.” He raised one brow. The man’s eagerness to sloth off even the outward signs of his station did not bode well. “I was attacked outside a jeweler’s shop. Two men tried their best to stab me to death. I unarmed one and wounded the other. My driver and I looked for the one I

  had injured, but they both escaped in a black coach.”

  “Well, you look as though you survived the ordeal well enough.” Lord Rudman nodded toward his bloody shirt. “Richard will be here with bandages in a moment.

  By all means bathe your wound and bandage it. I have guests arriving.”

  “I’m not finished,” Matthew said when Rudman started to turn away. He focused his attention on the magistrate who had yet to speak. “You know that my wife’s parents were killed by a band of highwaymen.”

  “Yes.” The man nodded.

  “I believe the men who attacked me were members of that gang.”

  “And why would you think that?” St. John raised a thick, speculative brow.

  “They wanted me to turn Katherine over to them for money. She’s the only witness to what happened that night.”

  “They said all this before they attacked you?”

  “Yes.”

  Rudman snorted his disbelief. “And assuming all this is true, you expect him to do what?” Rudman’s tone and attitude infuriated Matthew. He bit back the angry words that begged to be spoken.

  He focused on St. John once again. “Katherine has never done anything to you. For her sake, I’m asking you to look for the man I injured. He’ll have to seek help from someone. He was bleeding badly. These men attacked me on a city street. Next, it could be Talbot and Clarisse, or Lord Leighton. They’ll go through them to get to Katherine because she’s a threat.”

  “Then, I suggest you do your duty by the girl and protect her, Hamilton. She’s your wife,” Rudman interrupted again.

  Matthew shook his head and reached for his coat. He slipped his injured arm into the sleeve gingerly. “These men are ruthless. They raped and killed an innocent woman and shot the men. They’re a threat to anyone they come into contact with. That means the populace of London. If you won’t search for them for Katherine’s sake, then at least do it for duty’s sake.” St. John’s pock-marked features flushed red with

  temper, and his mouth became a grim line. “I do not need you to tell me what my duty is.”

  “Katherine’s family hasn’t been the only ones robbed, though they are the only ones killed thus far. The next might be Lord Rudman or yourself.” Rudman’s gaze turned suspicious. “Is that a threat?”

  “I won’t even honor that with an answer. You would do well to get your flunky to take action before someone else is hurt.”

  Rudman remained silent. Disgusted by both the men’s attitudes and St John’s refusal to do his duty, Matthew didn’t try to hide the contempt he felt for the two men. He strode to the door and swung it open impatiently.

  The Butler stood just outside with a maid who held a basin of water and some cloths.

  “Matthew, you cannot leave without seeing to your arm,” Jacqueline said as she rose from the chair he had vacated in the hallway.

  He grasped at his temper in an effort to be civil.

  “Thank you, Lady Rudman, but I’ll see to it when I reach home. My wife is wait
ing for me and I’m late. Have a good evening.”

  He brushed past them all and vacated the house. He paused on the steps just outside the front door to take a deep breath of the cold night air to clear his head and cool his temper. He didn’t know why he had wasted his time.

  Seeing two other coaches approaching up the drive he hastened to board his own to avoid being caught up in the throng of the Rudman’s guests. The footman slammed the door closed then almost immediately the coach rolled forward. As he settled back against the leather seats, Matthew realized he had just been treated to the same frustration and futility that Katherine had experienced for the past four months. There had to be something they could do.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Elton opened the door at Willingham’s.

  “Were there any problems today, Elton?” Matthew inquired as the butler took his tricorn and cloak.

  “No, sir. Madame Hamilton spent some time in the kitchen going over recipes with cook. Then, she and Lady Willingham left for a time to have tea with Lady Abington and her daughter.”

  Matthew nodded, though his thoughts were more on the first statement the butler had made. “You said she spent time in the kitchen going over recipes.”

  “Madame likes to cook.”

  “That’s…interesting.” He had never known any English lady to do more than plan the menus. “Has she a talent for it?”

  Elton’s solemn composure cracked enough for a slight smile to hook one corner of his mouth upward beneath his mustache. “I am sure you shall discover that at dinner, sir.” He smiled. “For certain. “I’d like water sent up for a bath, Elton.”

  “I’ll see to it, sir. Lord Willingham has asked that you join him for a drink in the library, before you go upstairs, sir.” “Very well. Thank you, Elton.” Talbot stood at the fireplace, a drink in his hand. He offered Matthew a smile and a crystal glass of amber liquid. “You are a bit late are you not, Matthew?” He accepted the glass of brandy, relieved to be within the folds of his own family again. “There was some trouble earlier this evening. It delayed me.” Talbot frowned. “What sort of trouble?”