He’d made himself be careful. He’d wanted the man alive. He’d wanted to watch him hang. This was too easy a death for the villain who’d tried to kill Zoe.
About him, the servants emerged from their hiding places. One hurried to the fire and lit a taper, then began lighting the candles.
As the gloom receded, Harrison made a small movement and moaned. The candlelight showed no pool of blood about his head.
Marchmont breathed a quick sigh of relief and eased his iron grip on the candlestick. His heart was pounding, as though he’d run for miles and miles.
If Zoe had been in the bed…if he’d been an instant too slow…
But she hadn’t been in the bed.
He’d agreed to use her as bait, making a great show in the square of leaving her behind while he went on his long journey, but he had refused to let her actually lie in her bed to await a would-be assassin.
She came out from behind the door, another candlestick in her hand. “Just in case,” she’d said.
Tonight, as had been the case since Tuesday night, they’d had servants under the bed and in every possible hiding place, all ready to come to his aid.
She had insisted on being there, too.
The best Marchmont could do was persuade her to stand behind the door, while he hoped there wouldn’t be a scuffle and she wouldn’t hit him by accident.
“Somebody tie his hands and get him out of this room,” he said. “I can’t bear the sight of him. Hubert, find the hackney and make haste to Bow Street. Tell them we’ve got him.”
Not knowing where Harrison was or when he was watching, they hadn’t kept one of the duke’s carriages ready. Harrison would have noticed and become suspicious. Instead, Marchmont had paid a hackney to make a circuit of a few nearby streets, over and over, while waiting to be summoned to the house.
Harrison said nothing while they tied his hands and hauled him up onto his feet. But when they tried to lead him to the door, he refused to move.
“Oh, that is a fine trick, Your Grace, a fine one indeed,” he said. “You took me in completely. I watched you drive away myself, and had word from a friend at Barnet, who’d seen you stop to change horses. But it wasn’t you in the carriage, I see.”
Marchmont had changed places with Roderick, the tallest of Zoe’s brothers. Along the road, people would notice only the ducal crest. How many people outside of London knew exactly what the Duke of Marchmont looked like? They’d see a tall, fair-haired gentleman and the crest on the carriage, and that would be sufficient.
He didn’t explain any of this. Harrison deserved no explanations.
“I should have anticipated a trick,” Harrison said. “I mistook that show in the square before your departure, too. That I, of all people, should underestimate my master’s cleverness is a sorry state of affairs, indeed.”
“Come along, Mr. Harrison,” Joseph said. “Please don’t make a greater spectacle of yourself than you have already.”
“Yes, a spectacle, certainly,” said Harrison. “Well, well, how we shall laugh about this tomorrow, when we read it in the newspapers. Another one of His Grace’s jokes, eh? I told you all, did I not, that there wasn’t another master as amusing as His Grace.”
The house steward’s gaze shifted to the new butler. “So, Thomas, you’ve been put in charge, I hear. Like the work, I daresay. Fancy yourself His Grace’s house steward next, no doubt. Twenty years, you give your best. Do without sleep and without thanks, and it comes to this.”
Harrison’s shoulders slumped and he began to weep. “Twenty years. All my work. Ruined, ruined, ruined. ‘I’ll see those books,’ says she. Oh, yes, she must see the books. What’s books, to twenty years’ devoted service?”
“I should have given you credit for the twenty years’ devoted service,” said Marchmont, “had you not tried to kill my wife. Twice. I owe you nothing. Our account is balanced.” He gave the little wave of his hand. “Take him away. If he gives trouble, do what you must, but keep him alive. I want to see him hang.”
After they left, Zoe saw the change in her husband. The exhaustion he’d hidden from the others was plain to her. All these days of waiting, unsure exactly what Harrison would do. And all the while Marchmont couldn’t be sure he was doing the right thing and the best thing.
Zoe had told him, “Harrison knows this house better than any of us do. He knows it better than he knows his own body. If I don’t go out, he’ll come here to get me, and he’ll think he’s safe, because he knows everything about us and about the house.”
She’d been right, and Marchmont’s plan had worked.
Harrison had been caught, in the act.
And his master was so unhappy.
Zoe put her arms about her husband, but he gently disengaged himself.
“I beg your pardon,” he said. “I need a moment. You’re accustomed to being almost murdered. This is a novel experience for me.”
