Chapter Thirty-One
Lizzie’s eyes darted around the room as she entered the dimly lit Rose and Thistle. Located in an older building in a lower-class neighborhood of London, the pub reeked of ale, sweat, and dirt. She kept her skirts close to her body as she stood at the door, unable to see more than the shadowy outline of several men hunched over worn wooden tables, hugging glasses. She then pried her shoes loose from the sticky floor as she moved forward.
Hawk had not been home when she left, giving her no chance to tell him where she was going. She dared not delay, because she wanted this matter over with. Also, since he had forbidden her to go, she doubted if he would have accompanied her anyway. Most likely, since she was merely a duty to him, he would have made things easy for himself and locked her in her room.
One footman accompanied them, and she and the driver—who assured her they were both armed—had set out for the Rose and Thistle.
After viewing the room, she did not see Lord Sidmouth, but another man stood as she moved further into the space. He straightened his cravat and jacket, then gestured for her to join him. A bit disconcerted, she did as he bid and took a seat across from him, holding her reticule with the blank papers in her lap. He was a short rotund man, with ruddy cheeks and dark whiskers that covered most of his face.
His smile did not reach his small brown eyes as he regarded her. “I don’t mean to cause you distress, Lady Hawkins. My name is Mr. Charles Allen. I am the Home Secretary’s personal assistant. He asked me to attend this meeting with you and accept the papers, as something has come up and he was unable to be here.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong. She stiffened in her chair, her fingers clenched together so tightly, they hurt. “Why are we not meeting at the Home Office, Mr. Allen?”
“His lordship allowed it would be better to meet away from the building since we are trying to keep this a secret.”
That wasn’t correct, since the idea had been for the culprit to witness her entering the Home Office to turn over the incriminating papers. “I would have been happy to change the time if he could not attend.”
Mr. Allen waved his hand. “It is of no consequence. He trusts me implicitly, and I can assure you we will make this exchange as quickly as possible and send you on your way.”
Her uneasiness turned to absolute certainty that she was facing the very man they were trying to identify. This man was unaware that the papers she carried were blank. He was the man who had sent men to kill her three times. She glanced around, looking for the quickest escape, while trying to keep him talking. “What about the Scotland Yard men?”
“They are outside, my lady. No worries. Just hand the papers to me, and you can be on your way.” Although the light was dim, the beads of sweat on his forehead and the constant shifting of his eyes had her drawing back.
“I don’t think I shall hand the papers over, sir. I prefer to wait until Lord Sidmouth is able to see me.”
As she made to stand, he quickly came to his feet and clamped his hand on her elbow, stopping her movement. “I think not, my lady. I prefer to have you sit back down and pretend everything is perfectly normal.” He withdrew a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at her. “Do I make myself clear?”
…
“She’s gone again?” Hawk bellowed loud enough to bring the Watch running from the street.
His eyes wide, the disconcerted butler swallowed. “I apologize, my lord, but this time I did not even know she left. Lady Hawkins sent one of the maids to arrange for the carriage since I was away from the door at the time.”
Chastising the man would serve no purpose, so he reined in his anger. “I’ll be in my bedchamber,” he growled. “Send the maid to me.”
“Yes, my lord.” The poor man’s face was ghastly white, but Hawk was too furious to care. If this was the meeting with the Home Office, he’d arrived too late. He’d spent the last few hours sitting in his club, pondering the situation—without the help of brandy—and decided he’d been an absolute arse.
A complete and unadulterated fool.
Of course, Lizzie was his responsibility. All wives were their husbands’ responsibility. Her well-being was also his duty, but not the way it had sounded when he’d said he married her to keep her safe. He’d married her because he loved her, and love meant trust, and trust meant not always being in control of the other person.
Hawk stomped up the stairs to his bedchamber. He had no intention of permitting whatever Sidmouth had set up to be the only safety for Lizzie. Hopefully, he would drag the information out of the maid as to where the driver had taken his wife and chase after her.
He pulled his cravat off and tossed it on a chair, along with his jacket and waistcoat. While he waited for the blasted maid, he wandered into Lizzie’s room and stopped at her desk. He looked around the room. This was another matter to be dealt with. Once he groveled sufficiently for her to forgive his behavior, she would move all her things back into his bedchamber. No more sleeping apart. He had no intention of having a typical ton marriage.
In fact, bedchambers would not be an issue for some time. He had made the arrangements for their trip to the Continent, and now that it appeared this matter was close to an end, they could enjoy their delayed honeymoon.
While these thoughts ran through his mind, he bent over her desk and picked up a piece of paper she’d left behind.
My dear Lady Hawkins,
Our meeting will take place tonight at six o’clock. Please arrange to be at The Rose and Thistle in Camberwell at that time.
Your Servant, Lord Sidmouth, Home Secretary.
All the blood drained from Hawk’s face as he reread the note, refusing to believe what he saw. Over the years he’d received numerous notes and other correspondence from the Home Secretary. This note had not been penned by Lord Sidmouth.
In a flash, he was down the stairs, out the door, and headed to the mews behind the row of townhouses. “My horse, if you please,” he shouted at the groom. “And hurry.”
He’d known from the start this plan of the Secretary’s was flawed, but it was his own fault that Lizzie was in danger. If he hadn’t demanded she refuse to help uncover the culprit, she would have turned to him before she left.
Once again, he’d made the mistake of not listening. Lizzie had tried to tell him how important this was to her. How much she wanted to do one little thing to, in some way, redeem her name as a traitor’s daughter and help the Crown capture another treasonous individual. But he had dismissed it, more concerned about her being injured than her desire to put her father’s betrayal behind her.
His heart pounding and his stomach twisted in knots, he flung himself on Reggie and kicked the animal’s sides. He’d glanced at the long clock in the entrance way before he left. It was ten minutes to six o’clock. The ride to The Rose and Thistle was about fifteen minutes.
…
Lizzie stumbled as Mr. Allen pushed her forward. She dug her heels in, and they came to a stop. She pulled her elbow away and burrowed into her reticule, pulling out the papers. Hopefully, he wouldn’t look at them here and would let her go before he discovered they were blank. “Here.” She shoved the papers at him. “If this is what you want, then take them, and let me go.”
He took the pages from her hand and shoved them into his pocket. “No, my dear Lady Hawkins. Since you have these letters in your position and are looking me square in the face, you are fully aware of who was working with your father. I would be a fool to let you go free.” He grabbed her elbow again. “Move.”
Once they reached the cool night air, Lizzie shivered, searching frantically for the Scotland Yard men. Then she realized with a jolt that, of course, there would be no Scotland Yard men. This entire meeting had been set up to get her alone, retrieve the papers from her, and then kill her.
She closed her eyes and groaned. She should have waited for Hawk. She should have refused to help the Home Secretary. She should have…well, all the “should haves” in the world didn’t matter since here she was in a place not known to anyone, with a gun pointed at her side.
Cam’s carriage sat in front of the Rose and Thistle, the driver and footman sprawled on the ground, clearly knocked unconscious, which meant another man working with Mr. Allen had been outside, waiting for her to arrive.
Would Mr. Allen turn her over to the other man to do the actual killing? Since he’d hired men before to do his dirty work, she was quite sure he would not kill her himself.
Her forearm clenched tightly in his grip, Allen walked her to Cam’s carriage. “Climb in, and don’t make a sound, or I will shoot you right here.”
She did as she was told and looked around the space, trying desperately to think of a way to save herself. Suddenly, the carriage was jolted sideways, and she slid across the seat to look out the window.
Hawk had Mr. Allen by his throat, shoved up against the carriage. Lizzie opened the door and screamed, “Behind you, Hawk.”
Another man, most likely the one who had bludgeoned the driver and footman, raced up to the carriage, his gun drawn.
Hawk threw a punch at Mr. Allen’s jaw, and his head snapped back hard against the carriage, and he went down. Lizzie screamed as Mr. Allen’s cohort reached out, pulled her from the carriage, and put the gun to her head.
“Back up, toff, or yer lady love gets shot.”
Hawk stopped and stared at the two of them, breathing heavily. He looked over at Lizzie and gave her a wink! She couldn’t believe it. With all of this going on, he was winking at her. The man must be crazy. “They’re going to kill me anyway, Hawk. Don’t listen to him.”
“This time I’m in charge, Lizzie. Remember to always obey me. Instantly. No argument, no second thoughts. Do you understand?”
Whatever was he rambling on about? He wanted to discuss her disobeying him now? Here?
“Drop!” Hawk shouted.
Startled by his shout, she threw herself sideways and dropped to her hands and knees, wincing as the cobblestone cut into her skin. Hawk lunged forward, knocking the gun from the man’s hand, and slammed his fist into the villain’s gut so he collapsed to the ground. He kneed him on his chin, and he landed flat on his back, his eyes closed.
Mr. Allen climbed to his hands and feet, fingering his jaw. Lizzie swung her reticule at the man’s head, and with a grunt, he fell face down in the dirt.
Hawk grabbed the gun from the ground and pulled Lizzie to his side. His breathing was still rapid as he hugged her and said, “I like how well you take orders.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She smiled up at him, so very grateful for his unexpected appearance.
Hawk kissed her on the head. “Excuse me, my love, but I have to take care of these two.” He yanked his cravat from his neck, ripped it in two, then kneeled to tie the villain’s hands behind his back. He was awake and groaning.
Then he turned to Mr. Allen, who was still out cold. “What the devil did you hit him with?” He rolled him over and tied his hands behind his back.
Lizzie held up her reticule. “This.”
“And that knocked him out?”
She grinned, pulled the strings of the reticule apart, then turned it upside down. About ten rocks fell from her reticule to the ground. “You see. I was prepared.”
Hawk threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Yes, my dear countess, you were indeed prepared.”