Page 54 of To Tame the Wild Rake
“You might drop the ‘Lord’ since we are practically cousins,” Aldridge suggested. “And you, too, Jamir, if you wish.”
“Not in front of waladi—my father,” Jamir commented, and grinned. “Thank you, Aldridge.”
26
At Haverford House, Aldridge requested a fresh team in three quarters of an hour, and sent for his valet. He left the boys in the billiard room. “I’ll have someone bring you refreshments,” he promised.
He was tying his cravat while his valet stood by with an assortment of cravat pins when Jamir burst into the room, Richards on his heels. “Aldridge, come quickly,” Jamir demanded.
“I am sorry, my lord,” said Richards, grabbing Jamir by the arm. “The boy got past me.”
Aldridge held up a hand. “Wait, Richards. Jamir, what is it?” The boy’s eyes were wide and strained.
“There is a man…” Jamir stopped and visibly composed himself, closing his eyes, folding his hands across his breast and taking a deep breath. Then, standing straight and tall, he reported, “The refreshments did not come, sir, so Thomas said we should remind the footman. We saw him farther down the hall, but he was with a man, dressed as a gentleman, not a servant. The man carried a large bag. It was dark where we were, and they did not see us. The man said to the footman, ‘Show me to Aldridge’s bedroom. I will place the device there, and you will wait thirty minutes and then fetch Aldridge’.”
His brows drew together and he wrinkled his nose. “We followed, sir, and they came into your apartments, but stopped at another room. The Sultan’s room.” He waved back in the direction of the playroom. “Thomas stayed to watch them, sir, and I came to get you.”
Aldridge took off at a run, plucking a battle axe from a display in the passage as he passed.Thank goodness I hadn’t put my boots on. Jamir, too, ran on stockinged feet. He and Thomas, lurking by the playroom door with a knife in each hand, must have taken off their boots to move more quietly.
The door to the playroom was partly ajar, and Aldridge could hear conversation. No, a monologue. “Such a surprise for dear Aldridge. Mullins, are you still here? Go and fetch your master. Tell him…” He snickered, and Aldridge recognised Wharton’s throaty giggle. “Tell him Charlotte is here, and wants to make passionate lo-o-ove all night long.” Another snicker.
“What about my sister? You promised…” That was the footman, Mullins.
“I will not trouble your sister after tonight, Mullins. Run your message, boy. But be quick! The device goes off in twenty minutes, and counting. The sooner you get back with Aldridge, the sooner I will tell you how to find your sister. Now where shall I place myself? Ah, yes! Perfect. Right under the portrait of Baroness Overton.” He giggled again, the pitch rising, but Aldridge had ceased to pay attention as the footman emerged from the room.
He stopped in his tracks as he saw Aldridge, axe at the ready, and squeaked his fright when Thomas stepped up beside him and put a knife to his throat.
Aldridge beckoned Mullins away from the door, and Thomas marched along with him, keeping the knife in place. Once they rounded the corner of the passage, Aldridge said in a low voice, “Keep your voice down, Mullins, or I shall give Lord Thomas the nod to slit your throat. Now. What device is Wharton talking about?”
Mullins looked confused. “Don’t know no Wharton, my lord. That there’s the Beast. He has taken my sister, my lord. He says he’ll put her to work in the brothels if I don’t do what he says.”
“The Beast can’t be trusted, Mullins, you know that. But you also know that I always keep my word. I will help you find your sister, but you must help me bring down the Beast.” Aldridge nodded to Thomas, who removed the knife and stepped back. “Now, tell me about the device. Black powder?”
“I think so, my lord. He says it will blow half the house sky high when the timer reaches its end.”
Thomas said something in another language, an interjection that, from the tone, could probably be translated by an expletive. He changed to English to say, “I knew I’d seen the man before. Aldridge, I talked to him two weeks ago at an exhibition of clockwork mechanisms.”
“By his count, we still have fifteen minutes,” Aldridge said. In moments, the plans were made. Richards and a group of armed footmen went round to the playroom’s other door. More armed footmen followed Mullins and Aldridge. “Stay out of sight until I have him subdued,” Aldridge instructed. “Boys, stay here. I don’t want the job of explaining to your fathers how you came to be shot or blown up.”
Aldridge entered the room a pace behind Mullins, his duelling pistol hidden behind the footman. Richards had the matching gun. Wharton was lounging on the massive bed, preening for his reflection in the mirrored ceiling, but with one eye steadily on the door and the barrel of his own pistol hard against the head of a trembling hall boy.
“Surprise!” he said, then put on a falsetto voice. “Oh, Aldridge. I am ready for you, Aldridge. We shall light up the night together, Aldridge.”
Aldridge showed his own weapon. “Give it up, Wharton. My men are blocking all the exits and will attack on my command.”
“But Aldridge, I don’t plan to leave. I am going to die tonight and take you with me. And this sweet little boy. A pity, but there it is. The duke is dead, long live the duke.” He kicked a package of papers towards Aldridge. The seal was broken, but most of it still adhered to the document—Aldridge could recognise it from across the room as the steward’s seal from Haverford Castle. “Mullins didn’t tell you about the letter from Haverford Castle. Naughty Mullins.”
He turned a snarl on the footman. “Naughty, naughty Mullins. You told Aldridge. No pretty little sister for you!”
Haverford was gone—to whatever hell awaited him. Aldridge shelved the notion to deal with later.
Wharton was still talking, crooning almost. “I win at last, Aldridge. Haverford, I should say. But only for the next few minutes. Then it will be Gren’s turn. Pretty Gren. You should have let me have him, Aldridge. Haverford. I told you years ago I would get back at you, and I have.” He giggled again. “Do you like all my pretty stories?”
A shadow moved near the other door. Slowly, with extreme stealth, Thomas wriggled along the edge of the room, until he disappeared into the deeper shadows at the head of the bed.
Whatever he was up to, Aldridge needed to keep Wharton talking. “Is that it, Wharton? All these years and you have been sulking because Gren wanted you to leave him alone?”
Wharton pushed himself upwards, and screamed, “Liar! He loved me. And I loved him.”
