Litton returned the grin, then sobered. “No, it cannot be that. But I think Lady Diana is safer if no one has reason to think otherwise. Clearly, this is the work of desperate men. Otherwise they would not have killed one of their own.”
A tense silence filled the room.
Vincent drew in a long breath and it out slowly. “True.” He turned his gaze to Diana. “Can you truly think of no reason for this?”
She hesitated a heartbeat too long. “I… No. It does not make sense.”
“Did Wyn ever talk to you of his doings at the Foreign Office?”
“Sometimes.” Her brow creased in thought. “Do you think this may have something to do with the business he did for them?”
“Do you?” Vincent waited.
She sat as if lost in thought for a minute, then raised her gaze to his. “I cannot think what.”
Litton cleared his throat. “Did your husband ever mention Bonaparte? Anything about his exile?”
“He may have. I…we…” Her cheeks turned pink. “He was very busy. I did not see much of him.”
Had she wished to? Vincent knew Wyn spent little time at home. Had Diana waited alone, longing for his company? Had she loved him that much? Or had his neglect taken its toll on her feelings? He hoped it had. It would make things easier for her.
That is, easier if he could protect her from her husband’s enemies. She must know something that threatened them—something that Wyn had told her. Could she truly not know what?
His stepfather gave him a penetrating look. “Well, someone clearly considers Lady Diana to be a danger to them. This must be an attempt to control her. They will not stop with one attempt. What will you do now?”
Vincent glanced across the room at Diana. “I will take her away.”
She sat up, suddenly straighter. “What? What do you mean?”
“You cannot stay in London. That should be evident. I will take you elsewhere.”
Alarm filled her face. “But where can I go?”
“Yorkshire, I think.”
“Good.” Litton nodded. “There you have a choice— You can go to Inglewood or you are welcome to go to Three Oaks.”
“Or to Wulfdale,” Helen spoke up. “Charles and Catherine would be willing to help.”
Diana looked from one to the other, puzzled and sounding on the verge of panic. “Where is Inglewood? Who are Charles and Catherine?”
“My brother and his wife. They live in the area of Inglewood, which is the Lonsdale estate,” Helen replied. “Charles and Adam are best of friends.”
But Vincent knew where he would go. He would go to his own place, his own stronghold. There he would keep her safe. He glanced down at the little boy dozing on his lap. “Diana, the children are exhausted and so are you. Come, I’ll carry Bytham up. We will discuss our plans on the way.”
“I’ll send Throckmorton to keep watch over them so that you will rest.” Litton stood as Diana rose reluctantly. “You will not worry with him on duty.”
“Thank you. You have been so kind.” Diana’s breath caught and she quickly covered her mouth with one hand, tears visible in her lashes.
Helen smiled. “Our pleasure, dear. Now do go up and rest.”
Vincent guided Diana out of the room and up the stairs to the nursery door. “We will leave late tonight, as secretly as possible. I have…business I must attend to first. You need to pack everything we can carry in one traveling coach. I don’t know how long we will be gone.”
She paused outside the nursery door. “I suppose we must go. I cannot risk the children again.”
“No. Whoever did this has shown that they do not scruple to take a life. Since they failed to take your children hostage, their next attempt may be to kill you.”
He watched the blood drain out of her face as she tried to answer. “If only I understood…”
He studied her expression. “Are you sure you do not?”
Her gaze fell to her hands and she shook her head. Vincent reached out and took her chin between his thumb and finger, lifting her face to study it for the truth. Instead the impulse to kiss her almost overpowered him. He hastily turned her face to the light. The scraped place on her cheek was beginning to bruise, as well.
Someone would die for that.
Chapter Four
As she stumbled along the narrow, odoriferous alley, a chilly breeze brushed against Diana’s cheek, eliciting a small shudder. She started as somewhere in one of the mews a dog barked, only to be silenced by a sharp command. The setting moon shed but faint light over the way, and Diana, encumbered by Bytham’s limp form in her arms, tripped over a loose cobble.
Lord Litton’s firm hand on her elbow steadied her and she glanced at Selena, half asleep in his arms. In spite of his burden, his lordship moved through the night with a watchful eye, followed closely by the exceedingly large footman called Throckmorton.
Diana viewed this addition to the party with mixed feelings. The presence of a veritable giant with the battered features of a former pugilist might prove comforting—if she could believe in his loyalty. Loyalty to her. But could she? At this point her enemies might be anyone. She had been forced to put her faith in Vincent Ingleton and Lord and Lady Litton, but were they truly her friends? They had been so kind, she could hardly think otherwise, but now… In the night, in the dark of the alley, she couldn’t be sure of anything.
Where were his lordship and his burly henchman taking her?
She had not seen Vincent since they had parted at the nursery door. Her baggage had been taken away hours earlier in Litton’s coach, and he assured her that they were going to meet Vincent.
But why were they proceeding in this clandestine fashion?
For that matter, was she wise to cast her whole dependence on Vincent as she had been doing? She had hardly proved herself a good judge of character in the past, she thought wryly. Diana had never quite understood Lonsdale’s motives in removing her from her home so precipitately. She began to wish herself back in the safety of the Litton town house—or even her own former quarters.
She wanted to seize her children and bolt.
But that represented no more safety than her present destination.
Whatever it might be.
No, for now she must trust, warily perhaps, but trust in someone. Not far ahead, tucked up against the mews, the outline of a dark coach loaded with trunks emerged from the gloom. The coachman in his powdered wig and top hat slumped on the box as if dozing. At the sound of their approach he sat up and peered down at them. Lord Litton opened the door and lifted Selena onto the seat. She murmured a drowsy protest before curling up and again sinking into slumber. He then took Bytham from Diana so that she could enter. For a moment she hesitated, afraid to let the children be separated, even for a moment.
Apparently sensing her uncertainty, he stepped in front of her and placed the boy on the other seat, then turned to help her, patting her gently on the shoulder. “Do not be afraid, my lady. All will be well.”
Diana nodded mutely and settled herself beside Selena. She felt the carriage rock as Throckmorton climbed onto the box and the lamps flickered into light. A moment later the coachman startled her by climbing inside. Before she could question this unorthodox procedure, he shrugged out of his greatcoat and tossed his wig aside.
“Vincent!”
He grinned his crooked grin. “Just so.”
“But