Patricia Rowell - A Treacherous Proposition

But Vincent knew where he would go. He would go to his own place, his own stronghold. There he would keep her safe. He glanced down at the little boy dozing on his lap. “Diana, the children are exhausted and so are you. Come, I’ll carry Bytham up. We will discuss our plans on the way.”

“I’ll send Throckmorton to keep watch over them so that you will rest.” Litton stood as Diana rose reluctantly. “You will not worry with him on duty.”

“Thank you. You have been so kind.” Diana’s breath caught and she quickly covered her mouth with one hand, tears visible in her lashes.

Helen smiled. “Our pleasure, dear. Now do go up and rest.”

Vincent guided Diana out of the room and up the stairs to the nursery door. “We will leave late tonight, as secretly as possible. I have…business I must attend to first. You need to pack everything we can carry in one traveling coach. I don’t know how long we will be gone.”

She paused outside the nursery door. “I suppose we must go. I cannot risk the children again.”

“No. Whoever did this has shown that they do not scruple to take a life. Since they failed to take your children hostage, their next attempt may be to kill you.”

He watched the blood drain out of her face as she tried to answer. “If only I understood…”

He studied her expression. “Are you sure you do not?”

Her gaze fell to her hands and she shook her head. Vincent reached out and took her chin between his thumb and finger, lifting her face to study it for the truth. Instead the impulse to kiss her almost overpowered him. He hastily turned her face to the light. The scraped place on her cheek was beginning to bruise, as well.

Someone would die for that.

As she stumbled along the narrow, odoriferous alley, a chilly breeze brushed against Diana’s cheek, eliciting a small shudder. She started as somewhere in one of the mews a dog barked, only to be silenced by a sharp command. The setting moon shed but faint light over the way, and Diana, encumbered by Bytham’s limp form in her arms, tripped over a loose cobble.

Lord Litton’s firm hand on her elbow steadied her and she glanced at Selena, half asleep in his arms. In spite of his burden, his lordship moved through the night with a watchful eye, followed closely by the exceedingly large footman called Throckmorton.

Diana viewed this addition to the party with mixed feelings. The presence of a veritable giant with the battered features of a former pugilist might prove comforting—if she could believe in his loyalty. Loyalty to her. But could she? At this point her enemies might be anyone. She had been forced to put her faith in Vincent Ingleton and Lord and Lady Litton, but were they truly her friends? They had been so kind, she could hardly think otherwise, but now… In the night, in the dark of the alley, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

Where were his lordship and his burly henchman taking her?

She had not seen Vincent since they had parted at the nursery door. Her baggage had been taken away hours earlier in Litton’s coach, and he assured her that they were going to meet Vincent.

But why were they proceeding in this clandestine fashion?

For that matter, was she wise to cast her whole dependence on Vincent as she had been doing? She had hardly proved herself a good judge of character in the past, she thought wryly. Diana had never quite understood Lonsdale’s motives in removing her from her home so precipitately. She began to wish herself back in the safety of the Litton town house—or even her own former quarters.

She wanted to seize her children and bolt.

But that represented no more safety than her present destination.

Whatever it might be.

No, for now she must trust, warily perhaps, but trust in someone. Not far ahead, tucked up against the mews, the outline of a dark coach loaded with trunks emerged from the gloom. The coachman in his powdered wig and top hat slumped on the box as if dozing. At the sound of their approach he sat up and peered down at them. Lord Litton opened the door and lifted Selena onto the seat. She murmured a drowsy protest before curling up and again sinking into slumber. He then took Bytham from Diana so that she could enter. For a moment she hesitated, afraid to let the children be separated, even for a moment.

Apparently sensing her uncertainty, he stepped in front of her and placed the boy on the other seat, then turned to help her, patting her gently on the shoulder. “Do not be afraid, my lady. All will be well.”

Diana nodded mutely and settled herself beside Selena. She felt the carriage rock as Throckmorton climbed onto the box and the lamps flickered into light. A moment later the coachman startled her by climbing inside. Before she could question this unorthodox procedure, he shrugged out of his greatcoat and tossed his wig aside.

“Vincent!”

He grinned his crooked grin. “Just so.”

“But why this masquerade?”

“For your safety. And mine. There are reasons you needn’t…” He glanced out the window as the coach lurched forward. “I don’t want us to be followed.”

The carriage rounded a corner and set off at a brisk trot. “Is Throckmorton driving? He is coming with us?”

“Aye.” A crease formed between his black brows. “It seems so. Litton insisted I bring him. Throckmorton has been in his employ for several years. Litton says he is reliable and very…useful.”

“But you do not sound as though you are pleased.”

“I don’t know him well enough.”

“Do you not trust him?”

He gave her an appraising look and replied gravely, “I don’t trust anyone.”

In fact, Vincent had no real reason not to trust the redoubtable Throckmorton. He just found it healthier to be wary of all comers. But he had to admit that the reinforcement represented by the footman might prove invaluable if it came to a fight.

He only wished he could completely trust Diana.

She was obviously holding something back whenever he asked about possible enemies. But what? He sat opposite her in the coach with the boy sleeping beside him on the seat. Diana leaned wearily in the corner with Selena’s head on her lap. Vincent hated the dark bruise on her cheek. In a few hours he would see that she had a chance to rest.

She sighed and looked at him. “Where are we going, my lord?”

“To Inglewood, eventually, but I do not want to go directly. I’m sure that whoever is harrying you will look for us there sooner or later, but I hope to delay their finding us until I am ready for them. It will be easier to protect you there than it is in London—and much easier than to do so on the road. When they find us, we will know who they are.”

Diana pressed a closed hand against her mouth. “Why, Vincent? Why are they doing this? Why would anyone take my children?”

“I am not perfectly sure, but, as Litton said, it must be that they desire a way of controlling you.” He studied her expression intently. “What do you know, Diana? And whom would it harm?”

“I don’t know!” Her voice rose on a hint of impending panic. “It must be something someone thinks Wyn told me, but we did not spend much time together. He was always very…busy.”

Vincent nodded. Certainly her husband had neglected her. But that did not mean the garrulous rascal never talked to her. “He is bound to have said something. Some reference to some group of people perhaps?”

She stared thoughtfully out the window for several heartbeats. “I cannot think… Well, yes. He once or twice said something about ‘St. Edmunds’s people,’ as though I would know who he meant, but I don’t. Except for his lordship, of course.”

“Did he ever mention Lord or Lady Holland?”