The swiftly moving coach wasn’t traveling fast enough for Drake as it splashed through the dark, narrow streets. A keen sense of anticipation gripped him until he thought he might leap from his skin. He snapped open his filigreed pocket watch and held it up to the small interior lantern. A few minutes more and he’d have the Fox by the throat.
Thunder rumbled ominously. Cold air blew in through the partially raised window and whipped the curtains. Drake shut the window and pulled his cape closer around him. His gaze shifted to his cousin fidgeting in the opposite seat. “Pray, Charles, why so down in the mouth? Are you worried Goss has somehow led us false?”
Lantern light flickered over Beaufort’s glum face. “Oh, no, Your Grace, I’ve a touch of indigestion, but it shall pass. My spy knows if he leads us astray, the reward is forfeit. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, nor does he need to. He found the Fox’s weakness, you see, a friend and frequent contact willing to turn Judas.”
A bolt of lightning struck overhead, washing the coach’s leather seats and tufted velvet walls with a moment of clear, white light. He thought of Elise and worried the storm might frighten her. He would be overjoyed when he could return home to keep her safe. “I’m eager to have this business over and done.”
Beaufort nodded. “Unless the Fox manages to flee again, we’ll have all we need to condemn him.”
Drake’s eyes narrowed. “Is his escape a concern, Charles?”
“I don’t believe so, but the Fox is a wily creature. He escaped your brother once, and Robin Goss is not the clever chap Lord Anthony was.” The captain swallowed nervously. “I have redcoats surrounding the tavern. They’ll follow us once we go inside to give us aid if need be.”
As the coach driver slowed their breakneck pace and reined the horses to a halt, Drake wiped the foggy window with the lace curtain and pressed the cloth out of the way behind a hook.
Beaufort leaned forward, scanning the front of The Rolling Tide. “Aha! There. You see it? They’ve just lit a light in the second-story window. That’s our signal, sir.”
“Then let us delay no longer.” Drake’s heart pounded with the thrill of the hunt. Finally, he would avenge Anthony’s death. He bounded from the coach, ignoring the sting of cold rain on his face.
Inside the tavern, his quick pace led him through the maze of occupants, past carousing sailors and a drunken fiddle player who smelled as if he’d soaked himself in rum. Taking the stairs two at a time, he glanced over his shoulder to see Beaufort huffing his way up the steps several paces behind him. Four redcoats, one of whom Drake recognized as Lieutenant Kirby, followed farther behind the captain.
When Drake reached the landing, he didn’t hesitate until he passed the room where Anthony died. Righteous fury fueled him onward. As he drew closer to the room that held his nemesis, the unmistakable thud of heavy blows meeting human flesh and the low, mewling cries of a trapped victim penetrated the red haze of his anger. A few steps from the door, he tasted victory.
“That’s enough, Brody,” a vaguely familiar voice said from inside the room. “We only get the full reward if the Fox is turned in alive.”
“We got in three or four licks, is all. She could take another half dozen and live to tell the tale,” a second voice argued.
Drake’s hand froze on the doorknob. She? He hesitated, listening. The voices were muffled by the door. Perhaps he’d misheard?
“I said enough, Brody. Any more and you’ll break her bones. Use Smith for punchin’ practice. It won’t matter if he gives up the ghost.”
“While he takes Smith, how ’bout I have a little fun with the wench?” a third, deeper voice asked.
“Not enough time, Clancy,” the first voice said. “That lummox Beaufort’ll be here any minute.”
“Lummox?” Charles hissed behind Drake. “Goss is nothing but a weas—”
“Quiet!” Drake insisted.
“He’s bringing the soul who’s offering the reward.” Robin laughed. “Can’t wait to see the surprise on his face when he finds out the Fox is a wom—”
Drake thrust open the door, cutting off Goss, who whirled sharply to see who entered.
“You!” Goss choked. Blood fled his face, leaving him as gray as a gravestone. “Anyone but you!”
Drake ignored Goss’s horrified exclamation. His gaze flew about the room, looking for the woman Robin claimed to be the Fox. Surely Anthony hadn’t been killed by a female? And even if such a circumstance were somehow possible, what kind of woman would perpetrate so vile a crime?
Two oil lanterns cast enough light for him to see the spare furniture and the battered hulk of a man slumped over the table. With the windows closed the smells of blood and sweat permeated the hot, stuffy room. From the corner of his eye, Drake saw Goss’s henchmen close ranks in front of a second trussed individual hidden in the shadows.
“Get out of my way,” Drake growled as he shoved a human mountain from his path.
“Wait!” Robin shouted. It was too late. Drake recognized Elise’s luminous hair the moment he saw her bowed head. Stunned disbelief robbed his body of breath. What was she doing here? Numbed by the sight of his battered wife, all feeling drained from his limbs until overwhelming pain roared back with a vengeance.
She didn’t move. Terror warned she might be dead. Begging the Almighty for mercy, Drake staggered forward and dropped to his knees in front of her chair. He laid a shaky hand on her chest and felt the rise and fall of her shallow breaths. Relieved beyond measure, his eyes closed on a prayer of thanks.
Behind him, an argument ensued between Goss and Beaufort. The captain ordered the spy and his henchmen to sit, then brought in the redcoats to enforce his command when the angered trio rebelled.
Drake ignored them all. A dozen questions buzzed in his head, but nothing mattered in that moment save Elise. Not his pride, not his quest for vengeance. His whole being focused with frantic intensity on his wife as he gently tucked a bloodied strand of hair behind her ear.
With the greatest care, he tested her jaw and found, by some miracle, it wasn’t broken. He lifted her chin, wincing when he saw the dark bruises forming on her precious face.
Frantic with worry, he ripped off his white linen cravat and dabbed at the blood streaking her cheeks and cut, swollen lips. He held her head to keep it from lolling while his other hand untied the ropes that bound her to the chair. Freed but unconscious, she sagged against him and would have slipped to the floor had he not held her tight against his chest.
As he gathered her into his arms and stood, a new kind of rage brewed within him to rival the intensifying storm outside. How dare these filthy animals abuse his duchess!
He turned toward the shouting behind him. Kirby and three other redcoats held Goss and his comrades at bay with weapons drawn, while Beaufort stood over them like an affronted rooster. “You’ve done it this time, Goss. I’ve heard enough—”
“But she is the Fox!” the spy shouted.
“Don’t be a fool,” Beaufort scoffed. “Her Grace is as much the Fox as I am.”
Drake refused to consider the possibility of Robin Goss’s accusation. The whole idea of Elise being the Fox struck him as absurd. There must be some other explanation.
“Cease your bickering!” With great care, Drake adjusted Elise in his arms. “Captain, I want these men arrested and taken far beyond my sight.”
A chorus of alarmed protests rose from Goss and his duo of cutthroats. Robin leaped to his feet. “On what charge?”
One of the redcoats silenced him by slamming the butt of his musket into the spy’s middle. Drake took perverse pleasure in watching Goss double over and drop to his knees, moaning in agony.
Beaufort quickly obeyed Drake. “Lieutenant Kirby, arrest these men on charges of kidnapping and attempted murder. I believe one of the prison barges will have plenty of space to host them.”
The three men spewed obscenities and fought like fish trying to escape a net, but the redcoats made quick work of subduing them and prodded the prisoners out the door.
“What about Smith?” Beaufort asked.
In his concern for Elise, Drake had forgotten the tavern owner. He glanced down at his wife, who’d grown paler during the last few moments. There was no time to dwell on Smith. “Convey him to my home, but put a guard at his door. This man must have lied about my wife and betrayed Elise into Goss’s clutches. I should like to know the reason.”
Downstairs, Drake left the tavern by way of the back door. He hunched his shoulders against the cold driving rain and held Elise close to keep her as dry as possible. A stiff wind snatched at the edges of his cape as his expeditious steps took them around the brick building to his waiting coach.
Quick to help him, the driver opened the door. Drake placed Elise on the velvet bench as if she were a piece of priceless crystal.
Climbing in, Drake shook off his wet cape before taking the opposite seat, then lifted her onto his lap. He held her tight with one arm while he covered her with his cape, hoping the warm lining would fight off the chill.
“Your Grace?” Beaufort popped his head inside, water dripping from the brim of his hat. “I’ve stowed Smith in a hired carriage. We’ll follow you back to the townhouse.”
“Fetch a physician on your way,” Drake ordered. He cradled Elise close, her heated forehead pressed against his jaw. Already her skin grew hot with a rising fever. “Make haste, there’s not a moment to lose.”
“Stop your pacing, young man.” Doctor Hardy glared over the rim of his spectacles. “You’re becoming a distraction.”
Drake raked his fingers through his hair as he swung on his heel. A sharp retort born of anxiety teetered on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. Elise’s care was his main concern. If he was disrupting the doctor, he’d position himself in the corner and wait stock-still if need be.
Heavy of heart, Drake watched Elise where she lay with a deathly pallor in the four-poster bed. Prin had washed her battered face and applied an herbal salve to her chafed wrists, but there’d been no time to cleanse her hair and it was still caked with blood. After building a fire to keep her warm, he’d exchanged her black garb for a fresh dressing gown. There was little else he could do to fight his feeling of uselessness.
Sick with worry, he rasped, “Will she recover?”
Doctor Hardy, a severe fellow with a disapproving manner, looked up from checking her pulse. “It’s too early to tell. I’ve examined her, and fortunately her bones are undisturbed. These cuts and bruises on her head and face will heal in a few weeks, but we’ll have to wait and see if her brain has suffered any ill effects.”
Drake swallowed the lump in his throat. “And the child?”
“I’ve no way of knowing if your wife is damaged internally. As of yet, there’s no evidence she’ll miscarry.” The doctor replaced his instruments into a worn leather bag. “Perhaps the next time you lose your temper, you’ll refrain from releasing it on your lady.”
Incredulous, Drake found himself speechless for the first time in his life. “You don’t think I—”
“The law may not frown on a man chastising his wife, and I have no wish to come between you, but when tempers rise, you must remember that self-control is the order of the day. Your lady is too delicate to take this kind of abuse.”
The physician had his mind made up. Gritting his teeth, Drake called Prin to see the doctor out.
Drake crossed the room to the footboard and gripped the smooth mahogany rail. His gaze touched on Elise’s beaten face and a sharp lump of emotion gathered in his throat. Where she wasn’t bruised or cut, her pale skin blended with the white sheet and pillows behind her.
His chaotic thoughts were nearly unmanageable. The doctor was right. Drake may not have abused her, but he’d not been home protecting her as he should, either. Elise had wanted to leave for England weeks ago. With his obsession for revenge, he’d made her stay. Now he might lose her and their child.
Torment swirled around him. Grief and helpless frustration bit deep. He sank to the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. Ropes had made her wrists raw, and the glossy sheen of the foul-smelling salve Prin applied earlier glistened in the candlelight. Raising her slender fingers to his lips, he blinked excess moisture from his eyes. He hadn’t wept since he was a boy, but his heart was shattering from the tightness of his chest.
A soft knock sounded on the door. He quickly wiped his cheeks. “Come in.”
Prin entered carrying a cup of steaming coffee. The aroma churned his stomach. Cool air from the hall streamed through the open door, causing the fire to dance in the hearth.
“I thought you might need this.”
Drake took the cup, but set it on the side table untested. “Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“I’m believin’ the Almighty will see her through. She’s been treated worse and survived it.” Prin’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “She may look as fragile as a dove, but she’s stubborn as a mule and tough as an ox.”
“What do you mean, she’s been treated worse? How? Who?”
Prin straightened the edge of the bed sheet. “I don’t know what Lisie told you ’bout our pa, but he was a vile man with no good qualities I ever saw. He’d drink like a pack of sinners on Saturday night, then get mean. I did my best to protect her, but sometimes, he’d catch her and I couldn’t do nothin’ to stop him from hittin’ on her.”
Drake shook his head, wondering what kind of barbarian would beat an innocent little girl.
“Then there was that ruckus last winter, but it wasn’t near as bad as this.”
An alarm bell went off in Drake’s head. “What happened?”
Prin’s face turned anxious. Clearly she’d spoken out of turn and regretted it. She crossed to the pitcher on the writing desk. “I think we best keep water going down her if we can. I’ll get a clean cloth. We can keep it moist and wet her lips if nothing else.”
“What happened last winter?” he persisted. “Did one of the Sayers abuse her?”
“It’s not my place to say.”
He’d come to the end of his patience. “I’m making it your place. What happened?”
Prin shifted nervously. “She was in a tussle with a man who tried to kill her. She fought with all her might and he ended up dead.”
Lightning flashed in the window. In an instant all the questions he’d sought to deny crystallized into one clear, horrifying picture.
“You’re not lookin’ so good, your Grace.”
He ignored her. “Where did this happen—The Rolling Tide?”
“How did you know?” she asked in surprise. “Did Elise tell you ’bout it already?
He closed his eyes, absorbing the agony that sliced through him like a bayonet. “No, I’m afraid she never did.”
“Then how did you know about her troubles at the Tide?”
“Captain Beaufort mentioned it some time ago.” Drake allowed the silence to linger as he gathered his wits. His gaze slid toward the bed where Elise lay in frightening stillness.
Worry, shock and betrayal vied for precedence in his mind. The one woman he’d believed in most deserved his faith the least. His hands clenched into fists of indignation. How could he have been so gullible? He deserved a flogging for his blindness. “How long has Elise been the Fox?”
“I... I can’t say.” Prin backed toward the door. “You’ll have to talk to her ’bout that when she wakes up.”
Drake had suffered one too many blows in the last few hours to forego issuing threats if necessary. “Prin, answer me or you and Kane gather your belongings and go.”
Prin froze. Surprise etched her mocha features. “Would you really cast us out?”
“If you force me to it.” He crossed his arms over his chest. Tension vibrated under his skin. He leaned against the cool windowpane where rain beat against the glass.
She nodded, her face solemn as if she’d learned a valuable lesson concerning his character. “I was a fool. I never guessed you’d be so heartless.”
His laugh was cold and grated with bitter irony. “I believe this business has duped us all in one way or another. I want the truth. Now.”
Chin quivering, his sister-in-law sat heavily in the wing chair before the fire. As she wrung her hands, she spoke to the mantel and avoided looking in his direction. “She’s been a spy since the winter before last.”
“To whom does she report her findings?”
“I don’t know.”
Embers crackled in the fireplace. Drake didn’t believe her, but he let the lie pass. His suspicions pointed toward the Sayers, despite Beaufort’s assurance they were loyal to the crown. No matter, he would find out eventually. “Why did she resort to espionage? Is she really such a traitor she would risk her life for so futile a cause?”
Prin buried her face in her hands as though she’d suddenly come to the end of her tether. Rocking back and forth in the chair, she fought back sobs until she broke down and wept. When she lifted her head, tears streamed from her pleading eyes. Drake refused to soften. “Answer me!”
She wiped her cheeks with her palms and sucked in several deep breaths. “She’s a patriot who believes in liberty, but...but mostly she spied to save me.”