Page 84 of A Secret Consequence for the Viscount
‘A pony?’ her daughter guessed. ‘A princess. A new baby doll for the others I have. I need a mummy doll with twins next time.’
Outside Eleanor could see Bowles now standing beside a tree about twenty yards away. He had warned her not to pull the curtain in the carriage and not to move away from his sight in any way. If she tricked him, he had threatened to begin shooting and she would not risk a stray bullet with her daughter so close.
Make things normal, her mind shouted. Make things relatable to the everyday in Lucy’s life. Avoid conflict and anger and excess. Smile. She lifted her lips into a dreadful parody of humour, feeling the stretch of her cheeks even as she wanted to scream.
Her calm manner seemed to finally be pacifying Lucy for she even yawned in tiredness and asked when they might be able to go home.
A good half an hour had passed since Bowles had sent Nicholas his note.
‘He has an hour,’ Bowles had said in a voice that hinted of darker things that might happen if the Viscount did not materialise.
She had thought to deny knowing Nicholas that well, but the day she had met Bowles in the park when buying chestnuts had probably done away with that lie. Instead she stayed very quiet, trying not to annoy him in any shape or form and watching for a chance to escape.
Nicholas suddenly appeared across the grass to one side of the conveyance and Eleanor moved in front of her daughter so that she would not notice the proceedings outside.
He looked furious and dangerous, but it was the menacing stillness of him that she noticed the most. Here was a man who had cheated death a number of times and instead of panicking he looked calm and certain. She searched his hands for weapons, but could not see any.
Nash Bowles met him as he came out of the shadows, a pistol in hand and a sneer across his face.
‘Put the gun down.’ Nicholas’s voice came across the wind. ‘Put the gun down and we will talk.’
Eleanor could see his glance coming over to the carriage and he swallowed as he saw her face in the window.
‘There is nothing at all to be gained here by violence, Bowles.’
The other laughed. ‘In that you are wrong, Bartlett, for there is everything to be won in my case and everything to be lost in yours.’
‘Let the woman and child go and deal with me. They have nothing at all to do with what is between us.’
The answer back was given with venom. ‘With the Duke’s sister here you will do exactly as I ask and if you don’t...’ He turned then and pointed the pistol straight at the carriage and all Eleanor could do was to wrap her body around her daughter in an effort to protect her.
* * *
‘No.’ Nick felt the tightness in his throat as he said the word, but he did not shout it. The man was crazy enough in his threats without adding any pressure to it. ‘Shoot me, Bowles. I am the one you want. I am the one you had followed to the Americas, although I could never quite work out why you should do that.’
Bowles had turned back to him now, his lips tight in a sneer of fury.
‘Throw down your weapon, Bromley. I know you’ll have one there somewhere. Take your jacket off and your belt, too. Do it.’
Nick complied, glad at least that Bowles’s attention no longer dwelt on the carriage, though he made a point to come closer. The gun he’d kept in his belt was gone, but he had a knife strapped to his ankle. Soon he would be well in range to use it.
‘Let me help you, Bowles. Put down the gun and there will be all the help that you need. I promise.’
‘Liar.’ The gun went off and Nick felt the bullet sear along the skin of the thigh that was already scarred. He dropped to his knees and breathed hard, willing the pain at bay as he stood again. If he lost consciousness he would be no help at all to Eleanor and Lucy.
He could hear Eleanor crying now in the carriage and prayed that she might stop. Attracting any sort of attention with a madman around was dangerous.
Bowles had another pistol in his hands now, primed and ready, the first one thrown down upon the grass, the smoke from the shot curling up into the air before him.
Nicholas cursed. He could not run at Bowles with his leg burning up in pain and he was still too far away to throw his knife with any accuracy. For the moment he thought it was better to keep him speaking.
‘If you talk about what you want changed, I may be able to help.’
‘Talk? Why? You never liked me, none of you did with your fancy names and your tight-knit friendship. All those years of trying to be a part of your group, of currying favour at Vitium et Virtus while you laughed behind my back. Did you think I would not know? I watched you that night you disappeared from the alley behind the club. I saw the henchman beat you over the head with the wooden baton as you fell to the ground. I followed you to the river where they threw you in and I hoped that the current would take you under, so that all breath was gone. But it didn’t. When the hackney cab left you crawled out again and I saw fear there on your face where before had lain only arrogance and I laughed at the way you ran like a stray dog for the docks, the grip of hell itself wrapped around your very neck.’
‘But you could not leave it there? You needed to make sure I was gone. In Boston and Philadelphia and Richmond?’ Keep him talking, Nick thought, for in the distance he could see the outline of Frederick behind the trees and he knew Jacob and Oliver would be close behind.
‘You had seen me, seen me with her, the foolish maid from your club, and do not pretend you fail to remember that. How was I to know she had some sort of a disease that meant the bleeding would not stop? How was that my fault? She died with your name on her lips, cursing me with all her life was worth, and I knew right then that you were a danger to me and I needed to see that you never returned to England.’
