Once Dishonored Page 6

  Lucas was considering joining Simon when the door opened and five men with a family resemblance entered in a gust of wind and rain. Most were obviously sporting gentlemen like the others in attendance, but the group included a man in black who moved unsteadily on crutches.

  One of the others, a burly fellow of military bearing, helped him inside, then asked, “Shall I take you to one of the chairs, Godfrey?”

  “No, dammit, Patrick!” Godfrey snapped. A proud man, apparently, determined to make his way on his own. Lucas’s bonesetter instincts stirred and he wondered what had put Godfrey on those crutches. A permanent injury, or temporary? It was hard to judge the man’s age because his face was so distorted by lines of pain.

  As Godfrey moved awkwardly toward a chair, he looked up and saw Lucas. His face spasmed in shock and he lost his balance, crashing to the floor.

  Wincing, Lucas strode forward to help the fallen man. “Are you all right?”

  Godfrey recoiled. “You!” he snarled. “Don’t touch me, you vile coward!”

  Lucas jerked to a stop, stunned by the rage and hatred in the fallen man’s face. Two of Godfrey’s companions hastened to his side. As they lifted him onto a nearby chair, Patrick asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Him!” Godfrey brandished a crutch at Lucas. “Lieutenant Lucas Mandeville! A coward and parole breaker who is responsible for my crippled state. How dare he pollute the air of this place, which belongs to gentlemen!”

  Patrick glared at Lucas. “So this is the coward you spoke of! What brass-balled effrontery! Get out of here, you scum. You don’t belong under the same roof as my brother!”

  Lucas had experienced avoidance and some cuts direct, but never such blatant hatred. He drew a deep breath. “I am Lucas Mandeville, but I don’t recall meeting Mr. Godfrey, nor do I recall any harm I’ve done him.”

  “That makes it worse!” Patrick snarled. He pulled a pair of gloves from the pocket of his cloak and lashed them at Lucas’s face.

  Lucas jerked back reflexively, avoiding the blow. “Good God, man, what am I supposed to have done?”

  “Broke your parole, which created greater danger and punishment for those left behind,” Godfrey said savagely. He thumped one crutch on the floor. “You see the results!”

  Lucas studied the other man’s face, but it was unfamiliar. “I’m sorry for your pain,” he said quietly. “But I don’t see how I can be held responsible for what a stranger has suffered.”

  “And that’s the worst insult of all,” Patrick growled. “Name your seconds!”

  “I will not fight you,” Lucas said, beginning to feel anger himself. “I think you must both be mad, and I will not fight a madman over a crime I didn’t commit!”

  With a roar of rage, Patrick ripped off his coat and dropped it on the floor, then stepped to the nearest of the alcoves that held weapons and ripped a pair of crossed blades from the wall. He hurled one at Lucas and grasped the hilt of the other with the skill of a trained fighter. “Fight, dammit, or I’ll run you through where you stand!”

  Lucas swore as he reflexively grabbed at the sword Patrick threw at him, managing to catch the hilt rather than the blade. It wasn’t one of the lightweight small swords usually used at the academy, but a cavalry saber, longer and heavier and more deadly, and with no cap on the tip to blunt a blow.

  He had only an instant to evaluate the weapon before Patrick bore down on him. Lucas knocked the other man’s thrust aside barely in time.

  He didn’t want to kill anyone, even this overprotective and misinformed brother. But if someone was to die here today, Lucas didn’t want it to be himself.

  CHAPTER 9

  “You’ve a talent for this, Miss Douglas,” Henry Angelo said approvingly as he blocked a thrust from Kendra’s small sword.

  “You flatter me, Signor Angelo,” she said, smiling back. “But I do remember how much I enjoyed the lessons I had from my cousin, and how good it feels to exert myself physically.”

  Angelo moved in with a teasing series of thrusts. “Your divided skirt works well for this exercise. Some of my regular ladies wear pantaloons and find them very good for fencing.”

  “Pantaloons?” Kendra rather clumsily warded off her teacher. The idea of wearing male clothing was startling, but she could see the advantages. “I would like to meet some of your regular ladies.”

  “There are usually several here on Wednesday mornings and . . .” Angelo stopped, frowning as he listened to raised voices from the main salon. “If you’ll excuse me, it sounds as if someone’s enthusiasm has gotten out of hand.”

  Kendra followed him out of the small teaching room, then caught her breath in shock as she saw Lucas engaged in fierce, metal-shrieking combat with a burly man who had murder in his eyes. And their sabers had bare, lethal points.

  The other patrons of the academy had gathered around to watch, some visibly uneasy about the fight, others ghoulishly excited. Angelo hesitated, perhaps considering the safest way to end the out-of-control duel.

  Kendra gasped when the burly man slashed Lucas’s shoulder and spurting blood saturated the white linen of his shirt. She instinctively darted forward, but was stopped when a hard hand clamped onto her upper arm. Simon.

  “Don’t distract him,” Simon said in a tight voice. “That could be lethal. Lucas is a first-class fencer and he’s trying to end this without anyone getting killed.”

  “Someone needs to end this!” she retorted as she tried to yank her arm free. Maybe a woman trying to intervene would cause both men to back off? Or maybe she’d be cut to ribbons, but she could not stand idly by.

  Simon wouldn’t release her, and in the next moments, Lucas did end it. With a movement too swift for Kendra’s eyes to follow, he knocked his opponent’s saber down and to one side while surging forward himself, reversing the saber and smashing the pommel of the weapon into his opponent’s jaw with an audible crack. The man pitched backward, dropping his saber as he lost consciousness.

  Lucas swept his gaze around the circle of men, his aquamarine eyes blazing. “By the rules of duello, the matter has been settled in front of witnesses. Presumably my victory over this Patrick person proves right was on my side. Does anyone else want to try to kill me without knowing the facts of the situation?”

  “I want to!” The ragged voice came from a black-garbed man seated in a chair by the wall, his thin hands clutching a pair of crutches. “And I do know the facts!”

  “I doubt it.” Lucas’s voice softened. “If you want to explain why you want me dead, I’ll be happy to discuss the matter with you.”

  The man in black spat at him, but was too far away to hit his target. Lucas shrugged. “I can’t refute charges that haven’t been made, Godfrey. Feel free to summon me if you want an honest talk. If not, you can damned well leave me alone!”

  Released by Simon, Kendra slipped through the group of onlookers. “I want to take a look at that shoulder wound, Lucas.”

  “It stings. Not serious.”

  “Nonetheless.”

  She’d almost reached him when one of the onlookers said under his breath, “Denshire’s whore! A good match for a cowardly oath breaker.”

  Kendra had pretended not to hear such comments in the past, but not this time. She spun on her heel. “Mine is another case in which you don’t know the facts, sir!”

  “No?” he said with a leer.

  Kendra’s hands tensed and she realized that she was still carrying the small sword she’d been practicing with. She swung it upward and brought the point to rest in the middle of the oaf’s chest.

  He gasped and tried to retreat, but his escape was blocked by other men. “When a dishonorable man wants to rid himself of a wife while stealing her inheritance, what better way to do it than by slandering her good name, hmmm?” she asked sweetly. “Don’t you agree?”

  “I . . . I suppose so,” he stammered, his gaze locked on the small sword resting above his heart. Though the tip had a safety button on, it would be easy for K
endra to pull it off and do serious damage.

  “Think about it then.” She pressed the sword just hard enough for him to feel the pressure through his shirt, then lowered the weapon and turned her back on him.

  The crowd melted away, leaving Kendra and her two friends. Simon had taken off his cravat and was efficiently bandaging the wound in his cousin’s shoulder.

  A man helped a groaning Patrick from the floor and led him to a seat by Godfrey. Looking up, he saw Simon and stiffened. “Colonel Duval! You’re a hero of Waterloo! Why are you supporting this . . . this oath breaker?”

  “I have known Lucas Mandeville my whole life,” Simon replied in a voice that could freeze a regiment in its tracks. “I have known no man more honorable. I have personal knowledge; you have only hearsay. Consider your sources, sir!”

  The man flushed a deep red and didn’t reply.

  The conversation was broken when Henry Angelo approached. “Miss Douglas, Colonel Duval, Lord Foxton, will you join me in my office?”

  They all nodded and followed Angelo into his office, which was behind the main hall. Lucas said, “I’m sorry for being the cause of trouble, Signor Angelo. I won’t come here again.”

  “You were not the cause of the trouble,” Angelo growled as he pulled a bag packed with bandages, salves, and other medical items from a large drawer at the bottom of his desk. “That slice on your shoulder needs attention.”

  Lucas looked uncomfortable, but relaxed when Simon said, “I’ll take care of this. I’ve done my share of dressing wounds in the field.”

  Angelo poured water into a basin and set it beside the medical supplies. As Simon removed the bloody cravat and washed the wound clean, Lucas asked, “Do you have any idea why that fellow Godfrey is hell-bent on seeing me punished for crimes unknown?”

  Angelo frowned. “Godfrey Rogers. He’s the youngest of a pack of brothers, and they’re all very protective of him. Patrick, the one who attacked you, is the oldest, a former cavalry officer. Godfrey was a midshipman in the Royal Navy, captured and imprisoned by the French. He was seriously injured in a fall while trying to escape, I believe, and returned home crippled.”

  “I don’t remember meeting him, but he might have seen me in one of the French prisons.” Lucas sucked in his breath as Simon cleaned the wound with stinging gin. “I don’t know how that translates into my being responsible for his crippled state, but there must be a connection in his mind. I wish I could talk to him without being skewered by one of his brothers.”

  “If the Rogers brothers can’t control themselves, they’re not welcome here,” Angelo said firmly. “I shall talk to them, and I hope to see all of you in the future.”

  Simon applied a fresh bandage to the wound, then helped Lucas into his coat. With the bloodstains covered, he looked normal enough.

  Kendra collected her shredded nerves and said, “Wednesday morning, Signor Angelo. I look forward to meeting more of your fencing ladies.”

  As the three of them left the academy, Simon said, “Will you join us for lunch, Kendra? This morning I sent a message to Lord Kirkland, saying we wished to talk to him. With luck, he’ll be available soon.”

  “Yes, thank you. I’d like that.” Kendra climbed into the carriage, thinking that after months of paralysis, events were beginning to move. Almost too fast for her.

  CHAPTER 10

  When they returned to Simon’s house, there was a message waiting from Lord Kirkland, inviting them to call on him that very afternoon. Lucas changed to a clean shirt and they had a light meal before traveling to Kirkland House, a spacious residence on Berkeley Square.

  They were escorted to their host’s study, where they were welcomed warmly. Kendra studied Kirkland. He was tall, dark, reserved, and enigmatic. Suzanne had described him as a handsome, charming spider in the midst of a vast web of connections. She’d been right about the good looks and charm, and Kendra had no trouble believing in the connections.

  As his guests seated themselves in chairs set around the fire, Kirkland glanced at Lucas’s shoulder. “I hope your injury this morning wasn’t serious, Foxton?”

  “A minor wound.” Lucas’s brows arched. “It appears that your legendary ability to collect information is well earned.”

  Kirkland smiled. “People talk. Your swordsmanship was much admired.” Turning to Kendra, he said, “I’m told you prefer to be known as Kendra Douglas rather than Lady Denshire?”

  She raised her chin, meeting his gaze steadily. “You are informed correctly, my lord. I’m glad to be rid of my husband, but I must reclaim my son and if possible, my reputation.”

  “Those two things are closely related,” he said quietly. “Tell me your story in your own words.”

  She was becoming practiced at telling the sordid tale. She ended by saying, “Do you believe me, or do you have more questions?”

  “I believe you,” he said promptly. “I’ve kept an eye on Denshire for some time, and he’s been involved in several unsavory situations. It’s easy to believe he would act against you in such an appalling way. It might be possible to attack his unorthodox legal strategy, but better by far to reveal his lies and deceit.”

  As a maid came in with a tea trolley and began quietly serving tea, cakes, and small sandwiches, Kendra opened her reticule and removed another copy of her list. “Here are potential witnesses.”

  Kirkland scanned the list, nodding occasionally. “This is a good start. Another way to gather information is to place someone in the household. I know a woman who is good at that sort of work. You would need to talk to her about what to expect.”

  Kendra hesitated. “Any woman who goes to work there would be well advised to be skilled in self-defense.”

  “This woman is.” He glanced up at the maid. “Hazel, you’ve proved how invisible you can be. Now sit down and join us for tea. Miss Douglas, meet Miss Wilson.”

  “Aye, my lord,” the young woman said with a London accent. Her demeanor changed as she moved from overlooked servant to guest. She poured herself a cup of tea. “Like all good servants, I was listening at the door before I came in with the tea cart, so I have some idea of what I need to learn, Miss Douglas.”

  Kendra studied Hazel Wilson more thoroughly. The young woman’s features were pleasant and unremarkable, but her eyes were sharp with intelligence. “I’m impressed, Miss Wilson. I do hope you really are good at defending yourself. In recent years I spent little time in Denshire House, but I heard it was difficult to keep female servants because of the behavior of Denshire and his friends.”

  “They would regret misbehaving with me,” Hazel said tartly. “I’ve taught self-defense courses to the females of Lord Kirkland’s household. Everyone from the countess down to the youngest scullery maid.”

  “I don’t suppose you know much about Denshire’s friends who testified to your alleged depravity, so I’ll set someone else to investigating them.” Kirkland gave a slow, rather dangerous smile. “We shall see if some justice can be done.”

  A tap on the door was followed by a lovely blond woman, surely the lady of the house. “May I join you? What you said earlier made me want to meet your guests.”

  Kirkland stood and gave his wife a smile as intimate as a kiss. “I’m glad you’ve returned in time to meet them. Colonel Duval you know, and here is his cousin Lord Foxton, plus Kendra Douglas, who is here on a quest.”

  Lady Kirkland’s smile was warm. “And Hazel is here also, I see, doing her best to seem invisible. Will you be free to give another defense course here soon? We have several new maids who are keen to learn.”

  “Not right away,” Hazel said, “but soon.”

  “May I take the course also?” Kendra asked.

  “Or perhaps Miss Wilson will teach the course in my household,” Simon said thoughtfully. “You might end up as a full-time teacher at this rate.”

  Hazel shook her head. “There aren’t many men as enlightened as you and Lord Kirkland, but I’m happy to oblige when asked.”

&n
bsp; Lady Kirkland’s gaze moved to Lucas. “Lord Foxton, I’m involved with a charitable organization called Zion House, which provides shelter for abused women and children. We also operate a free infirmary adjacent to the shelter. I hear you’re a bonesetter of considerable skill. Would you be interested in sometimes working in our infirmary in the East End?”

  Lucas gave a blink of surprise. “Yes, I would. When and where?”

  “A good thing you agreed, Foxton,” Kirkland said amiably. “There is no escaping my lady and her dedicated friends.”

  “Indeed not,” she said placidly. “Do you have a few minutes to discuss it now?”

  “You two can go into one corner to discuss the infirmary, Hazel and Miss Douglas can go into another corner to discuss what she needs to be doing, and Simon and I can stay here by the food and drink and discuss general strategy,” Kirkland suggested.

  “Well played, sir!” Kendra said as she and Hazel withdrew to the right-hand corner, where Hazel began asking questions about Denshire’s household, taking notes in a small notebook. When they were done, she closed the notebook and tucked it away. “This promises to be an interesting investigation, Miss Douglas. There is bound to be someone in the household who has some idea where your son was taken.”

  “You’ll let me know as soon as you learn something?”

  “Of course.” Hazel’s voice was gentle. “I’m sure your Christopher is being well treated because Denshire undoubtedly values having an heir, but a young boy needs his mother.”

  “I certainly think so!” Kendra rose to her feet. “You be careful at Denshire House. I don’t want another woman to be injured.”

  “Oh, I can take care of myself.” A short, sharp knife appeared in Hazel’s hand. Just as quickly she made it disappear. “A girl learns that early in the East End.”

  Kendra wished she’d learned such skills, though if she had, perhaps she’d have killed Denshire, and she didn’t want murder on her soul. Lucas and Lady Kirkland had finished their discussion, and he was looking very pleased.