Wedding In Springtime(53)

"Give you anything." Drunk or sober, Grant meant every word.

Grant pushed his face as far as he could between the bars and Genie met  him, her soft lips blending with his until nothing else existed but her  sweet, clean scent and the promise of her kiss. Despite everything, he  was ready for more, the kind of more iron bars rendered impossible.

"I underestimated you. I've ruined everything." Genie pulled back.

"No, I have been the fool. Had I had my wits about me last night, things  would have been different. But, Genie, you must get out of here."

Genie sat down on the chair. "I think I should pray."

"Pray?"

"Ever since my brother came to me, I've been desperate to solve this and  save him. I've done everything I can think of except pray. Stupid  really, since God knows what I should do, especially when I don't."         

     



 

Genie sat on the chair and bowed her head. Grant watched and waited, a  growing sense of panic overtaking him. He needed to get her out somehow.  Lord, I'm not one for praying, as well you know, but please get her out  of here.

A scratching sound got his attention. The dim light got darker. Someone was at the boarded-up window.

"Genie!" hissed Grant.

Genie was at his side at once.

"Hide the penknife under your glove," Grant whispered. "When he attacks,  stab him. Aim for the eyes and then run away as fast as you can."

After a few grunts, a small figure squeezed through a small crack  between the boards and landed softly on the ground. The child glanced  around and approached Genie, who had sat back down to pretend she was  still tied to the chair.

"Milady?"

"Jem!" said Genie, forgetting to pretend to be tied and standing up to give the lad an embrace.

"Don't trust him!" yelled Grant. "He's probably been working for  Blakely-or whatever the blazes his name is-this whole time." He prayed  for help and got an urchin instead.

"Jem, is this true?"

"I'm sorry," said Jem in a small voice. "I didn't want to, but the Candyman would do horrible things. He's a mean cove."

"I understand," said Genie, much kinder than Grant would have been. "But  now you must help us. Where is the Candyman and the other lads?"

"Gone to Hyde. Plan to fleece the duke then hush him good."

"I do not quite understand," said Genie.

"They plan to steal the letter from Marchford and then kill him. Is that the plan?" asked Grant.

"Aye, you're a cunning swell."

"Jem, you must help us get out so we can warn him," said Genie.

Jem proudly held up a key. "That's what I come for. Nicked it straight  from his pocket. He always said I was a leery cull when learn'n the  knuckle."

"Good boy, Jem!"

Jem unlocked the cage and Grant was never happier to hug a dirty urchin.  "Did right by yourself, m'lad." And perhaps praying wasn't such a bad  idea either.

Grant took Genie into his arms and kissed her right there in the cellar  in front of Jem and the rats. "I love you, Eugenia Talbot."

Genie beamed back at him. "I love you too, William Grant."

"There is much I wish to say, but for now, let's be gone," said Grant.

This proved harder than expected. There were two doors to exit the  cellar, but both the interior door up a rickety flight of stairs and the  exterior hatch door were padlocked from the outside.

"Can't you go out Pitt's picture?" asked Jem.

"The window," explained Grant to Genie. "So named for Pitt's window tax.  And no, there is no way for me to fit. Can't see how anyone could."

"I'm next to nothing," said Jem.

Genie climbed up on a crate to better see the opening between the boards. "I am too big for that I fear."

Grant helped her down, mentally reprimanding himself for enjoying putting his hands around her waist.

"Jem, can you squeeze out and go warn the Duke of Marchford not to go to Hyde Park and to come here to help us instead?"

Jem's eyes widened. "They'll have watchers on the house. They'll know if I go in. 'Sides, why would the duke believe me?"

"Tell him I said … " Grant thought for a moment for something Marchford  would recognize only Grant would know. Grant motioned to Jem and the lad  came close. Grant whispered something in his ear.

"What's that?" asked Jem.

"A very important name."

"Is it secret?"

"Very!"





Thirty-five


"Your grandmother requests your presence to discuss canceling the ball  tonight," said Penelope. She entered Marchford's library, which had  taken a militant turn, with boards across the windows and various  weaponry within easy reach.

"What is our excuse?" asked Marchford.

"Apparently, I have taken ill."

"Contagious?"

"Dreadfully. Something with spots."

"I hope you will soon recover."

"Me too. Have you gotten word from the thieves?"

"Yes. This was delivered." Marchford held up a missive with a red seal.  "Clever-they sent back my seal, so I'd know they were in possession of  Miss Talbot. They would like to trade her for the letter code at dusk in  Hyde Park."

"A trap?"

"Naturally."

Yelling and a loud bang interrupted their conversation. Marchford pulled  a pistol from his coat and pushed Penelope behind him on his way to the  door. He cracked the door from his study and looked out, then opened it  all the way. "What is the meaning of this?"         

     



 

"Your Grace! An urchin boy has invaded!" yelled the butler, giving chase  to a small boy, with two footmen and a scullery maid in tow. "Came in  the kitchen window. We'll soon be rid of him."

The small boy in question ran up the stairwell, then confounded his  pursuers by jumping over the railing onto a small table, which broke  under his weight, shattering an expensive vase. He found his feet  quickly but not fast enough to avoid the strong hand of the Duke of  Marchford on his shoulder.

"You the duke?" asked the lad, glancing nervously from the duke's face to the hand holding the pistol.

"Yes."

"I gots a message from Mr. Grant."

"Do you?" The duke surveyed the young boy. "Thank you, Peters," he said  to his butler. "You have earned a bonus for your efforts, and you three  as well." He nodded to his staff. The duke marched the boy into the  study, his hand never leaving the boy's shoulder.

Penelope followed them. She was not invited, but she could not possibly miss the excitement now that she was a part of it.

"I know this lad," said Penelope. "He is the boy who attempted to steal my bandbox outside your house."

"Is that true?" asked the duke.

"Aye, sir," said the boy, his eyes never leaving the gun.

"I believe he is also the lad Miss Talbot rescued and Mr. Grant has been housing. Goes by the name Jem."

"Yes, ma'am," said Jem.

"So what brings you to visit my home, Master Jem?" asked the duke in a mild tone.

"Mr. Grant sent me. He wants me to tell you not to go to Hyde. They means to snabble you."

"Snabble?" asked Penelope.

"To rob and murder, have I got that right?" asked Marchford in a lazy tone as if the plot was of little consequence.

"Yessir."

"And why can the illustrious Mr. Grant not tell me this himself?"

"He and milady are pitch-kettled in a cellar."

"And I suppose you would like me to follow you to this cellar?" asked Marchford.

"Aye!"

A knock on the door revealed a heavily laden Lord Thornton. He carried a  rope, shovel, rifle, bucket, lantern, and a brace of pistols.

"Good heavens, Lord Thornton," exclaimed Penelope. "You look quite the adventurer."

"Aye! James requested my assistance. I have learned to come prepared," said Thornton.

"Good show!" said Marchford approvingly.

"What are we doing today?" asked Thornton.

"Trying to rescue a damsel in distress without getting killed ourselves," answered Marchford.

"Always a good plan. Especially that last part," said Thornton with feeling.

"Young Jem here was just going to tell us why I would put my life in his hands by following him into a cellar."

"Mr. Grant told me to tells you something." Jem eyed Penelope and  Thornton suspiciously and motioned Marchford to lean down so he could  whisper in his ear.

"Ah!" exclaimed Marchford. "There is little you could have said that  would have enticed me to believe you, but I know Grant would not, even  under pain of torture, ever reveal that name. Lead on, Master Jem!"

"What name?" asked Penelope and Thornton together.

"Grant's tailor!"

***

"Can you pry off the board?" asked Genie.

Grant had stripped off his coat and was now standing precariously on  several stacked crates, attempting to remove the boards from the small  window. "Could if I had something to pry it with."

"Could we squeeze out if you got the boards off?"