Gillian opened the door and jumped down from the coach She pointed the pistol at Martin’s coachman and groom. “Don’t do anything foolish. I’m on the King’s business. If you value your lives, pull the coach past the abbey and wait for me.” She tossed Martin’s pouch of coins up to the coachman. “This should ensure your loyalty to the Crown for the night at least. Fleeing will only lead to your capture and hanging for treason. Best you spout loud your loyalty to the Crown and keep your former master quiet, if you want to avoid the noose at Newgate.”
The men hesitated an instant seeming to take each other’s measure before nodding their agreement. The coachman eased the coach away from the entrance to the abbey into the shadows.
Gillian turned around in a circle trying to see if there was anyone around who she’d rather not engage in conversation. The night was quiet. No voices echoed through the silence. The abbey archway stood tall in the moonlight.
“Lady Gillian, I presume?” A man’s droll voice came from the archway.
The voice was not familiar to her. Gillian leaned forward trying to see the man speaking. Maybe if she saw him, she would be able to recognize him. The night shrouded the abbey in dark shadows. The conspirators had chosen their meeting place well. Gillian clung to the knowledge the voice resonated with the distinctive intonation of someone educated at Eton. The speaker was a gentleman.
Gillian moved forward closer to the archway. She must distract the man until James and Cross arrived. “I assume you are cousin Stephen Martin’s superior. A spymaster, perhaps,” she replied.
A loud clapping of hands shattered the night’s silence. “Well done, my lady. Your assumption is accurate. I am sure you will forgive me for not introducing myself. The less you know the better. Now since we’ve seen to the introductions, if you would step forward. It appears I have underestimated you. A singular occurrence I assure you. I pride myself on staying one step ahead of my enemies. My friends, Roberts’ viscountess and Whitney’s by-blow, should have arrived in that coach. I assume you have done away with them and bought the cooperation of the coachman as well. Quite impressive for a lady of Polite Society to comport herself so.”
“My lord…, I assume you are a peer. I have had a very unsettling night, being accosted by the viscountess first, and followed by Mr. Martin and his rather shocking revelation of his paternity. My patience with this business is growing thin. I am in search of my uncle and his guests.”
“You are a sly one, my lady. I have had your new husband’s friend Sturmbridge in my custody for three days. Amazing what a fellow will divulge when in pain. I know all about your farce of a marriage. I know Moreham is at this very moment hunting for me. Please, come forward. I will not ask for your cooperation again. I will put an end to our interaction with a bullet between your eyes. I am not bluffing, my lady.”
With each word the French sympathizer uttered, Gillian homed in on his location. Now, the question was how to get the upper hand. She had no idea. All she could do was keep the stranger talking. Where were Moreham, Cross and her uncle? They should have arrived by now.
Gillian pushed her spine upward and stepped closer to the archway. She kept her steps fast enough so he would be satisfied with her progress, but slow enough to buy more time. She prayed Moreham would appear with each step she took. She promised herself when this night was over, she would never be separated from Moreham ever again.
Chapter 19
Moreham watched the courtyard. Waiting. The sound of a coach rolling to a stop alerted him that someone was coming. He kept himself in check. To expose himself too soon would jeopardize the mission.
Voices broke through the night. Too faint for him to understand what was being said. A shiver of dread flared through his body, one of the voices was that of a woman.
Gillian.
He held his breath as the voices grew in volume only to gasp at the sight of Gillian as she entered the courtyard. He lunged forward. He must get to her. Cross grabbed his arm and held him back. With his attention focused on Gillian, he’d forgotten his friend was with him.
“Moreham, think man. He knows we are here. Threatening Lady Gillian is a ploy to draw you out. You heard him say he has Sturm. We must be careful. Look at her. She’s calm, watching and waiting. No matter what we do, she’s ready to help.”
Moreham's heart stuttered with each step Gillian took forward. He willed her to feel his presence. He was glad they’d decided to use the back entrance to the abbey instead of the front way. Now, hidden in the same monk’s cell he and Gillian had occupied that first day, he waited for his chance.
“There’s a stairway to Gillian’s right. I’m going to climb the stairs and when she draws near, grab her.” Moreham pushed back from the window and headed for the door. “When I grab her…shoot him…”
Cross kept his eyes on the courtyard below and nodded. Moreham knew Cross was the better shot. When Cross fired his pistol, he hit his target.
Whitney was outside by the rear entrance to the abbey with the horses. The duke was of no use to them in the state he was in. With Gillian standing below, he was glad the old man had not come inside with them. The sight of his beloved niece in danger would have given the man apoplexy.
Moreham edged his way down the corridor to the stairs closest to Gillian. Since the monk’s cells were
