“And the second?” I asked.
“Without someone to retrieve the diamond for us, we had nothing with which to bargain. I did not trust Mrs.MacGregor or her Swedish blackguard to secure it without bringing some danger to Lord Rosemorran’s family should they stumble upon these villains. You know how often the children are in and about the Belvedere even if it is forbidden. What chance would they have if they encountered Göran?”
“None,” Harry put in. “He is a fiend, as I have good cause to know. That does make perfect sense, my dear fellow. With the diamond in hand, Veronica and I can rescue you and purchase my own life from Isabel as well. It is the best solution to an imperfect situation. If you do think I am up to the challenge,” he added with a bashful look at Stoker. I had never known Harry to be so lacking in confidence, but I could also understand where the dogged pursuit of Mrs.MacGregor had worn him down. She had, after all, tracked him across three continents. Of course, comparing himself to Stoker would be a blow to his self-regard as well, I reflected. As it would be for most men.
I was silent a long moment, and Harry was clever enough to do the same, giving me a few precious moments to think. “We have never failed to see justice done,” I told Stoker. “This feels like a failure. The first. And it is exceedingly bitter.”
Harry put a hand over mine, and out of the tail of my eye, I saw Stoker flinch. “Veronica, I understand your convictions. I remember well how firm you are in matters of right and wrong. But surely you can do a small wrong like abetting the theft of a jewel in order to save him?”
I looked at our hands, clasped together, my knuckles bloody from where I had punched Isabel de Armas MacGregor. I did not look at Stoker, but I could feel his gaze upon us. And then I looked into the face I had once loved, the bright brown eyes, soft and almost pleading.
“My dear Harry, I would not abet a small crime to save him,” I said with a smile. “I would commit a large one.”
I turned to Stoker and straightened my shoulders. “Very well. I accept this is your plan.”
Stoker inclined his head and the look he gave me was enigmatic. He turned to Harry and cleared his throat. “I would entrust her to your care except that I have rather more faith in Veronica to handle herself than I do you.”
Harry smiled, a lopsided smile. “You are not incorrect.” He hesitated, then stepped away. “I will give you a moment to say farewell,” he added with unexpected delicacy.
I moved to where Stoker stood, chained like a Gaulish warrior. “I will come back for you,” I vowed.
“I know.” He bent his head so that his lips brushed my ear. To an observer it might have looked like he was murmuring endearments, but the words he said were not romantic burblings. He issued a swift series of instructions on where to find the diamond and then straightened. He put out a hand as if to touch me, then seemed to think better of it.
I forced a smile. “Soon,” I promised him.
I would have stepped away then, but his control seemed to crack. He reached for me. “Look away, Spenlove,” Stoker ordered hoarsely. When he released me, I staggered a moment as I tried to find my legs. Stoker turned away and settled himself on his mattress as if steeling himself for whatever ordeal was to come.
I moved to the rope where Harry was waiting. “My God,” he murmured. “Little wonder you are so loyal to him.”
I turned, my hand upon the rope. “I have not shot you yet, Harry. Do not make me regret that.”
Climbing the rope with my injured ribs was an interlude upon which I do not care to dwell. It was accomplished only by atremendous amount of willpower and determination on my part with Harry right below, shoving and cajoling until at last I heaved myself through the coal door and dropped to the grass beside it. I rolled over and began to heave. I was thus occupied for some minutes as Harry emerged and waited politely.
“Finished?” he asked brightly as I sat back, hand pressed to my side.
“I cannot think anything remains,” I assured him in a grim voice. He put out his hand and helped me gingerly to my feet. Ordinarily, I do not care to be guided, but in this instance, I was content to let Harry lead.
“The road is easier going, but the fields are faster,” he told me, eyeing my slippers in the moonlight.
“Just walk,” I ordered, pointing to the nearest field. He did as I instructed, pausing twice to help me over stiles and once through a decidedly aggressive thornbush. My hat was gone, my face covered in bruises and scratches, and one sleeve was hanging by a thread by the time we reached the station of Pettibone, a tiny country halt that was mercifully deserted when we arrived. I hung back in the shadows whilst Harry purchased our tickets, but I needn’t have bothered. The lone clerk was sleepy, barely rousing himself to make change. I kept my face averted, studying the map of the surrounding countryside. Marking the direction we had followed, I was able to plot the location of the villa and was pleased to discover our little station was not far from St. Alban’s. We were not so far out in the country as I had feared, and we were, mercifully, on the correct side of the city in order to reach Bishop’s Folly with ease. Our luck held, and the train arrived shortly after we did.
Harry guided me to an empty first-class compartment and I collapsed onto the seat with an audible groan. “It was clever of you to think of first-class tickets,” I murmured. “No one to bother about us.”
“You paid for them,” he said with a grin. “It is the last of what you made me a loan of this morning.”
Harry stripped off his coat and covered me with it, hiding theworst of my tatters as he gathered me into his chest and wrapped his arms about me. Beneath my cheek, his heartbeat was slow and steady. “Try to rest. I will take care of you.”
I gave a derisive laugh, but it broke, ending in a cracked little sigh. He put a hand to my hair and rested his chin on the top of my head. “At least let me try,” he said.
It would have taken strength to resist him in that moment—strength I did not possess. I felt myself relax into him, floating, drifting, and then I was away, and the last thing I felt was his thumb, gently stroking my hair.
CHAPTER
27
The next thing I knew, he was prodding me awake. “We are here,” he murmured. I sat up and a lightning bolt of pain surged through my side. “Easy,” Harry said. I forced myself to my feet and spoke through gritted teeth.
“I will take my ease when Stoker is free.”
