Thus, if the villain wanted to kill him, he had a straight line from the house doorway to him. The windows in the vacant rooms were too far away for an accurate shot, and Freddie hoped the killer knew it as well. It would do them no good to spring their trap if the rat could simply vanish into the walls again without ever being seen.
“Now this villain will most likely be disguised as a footman, My Lord,” Charles had warned him as they discussed this mad plan a few days ago. “It is the only way he can get through the house without being stopped or remarked upon.”
To avoid being overheard, he and his steward stood on the dock, often gesturing toward the lake as though discussing fishing instead of baiting a trap. Though Freddie was not certain it was necessary, Charles did caution him that this villain might be watching as well as listening. “So you think he has roamed the house before as a servant?” Freddie asked.
“It makes sense,” Charles said, nodding. “He knows this house too well for him not to. He must also watch you, My Lord, as well as listen to your plans. He may not actually work shoulder to shoulder with the regular servants, but walk past, or stand nearby, yes, I think he would.”
“But he might gather the attention of you or Mr. O’Bannon and be ordered on an errand.”
‘In which case he bows, and slithers back into his wall with no one the wiser,” Charles said, his tone dry. “It would not be the first time a servant did not obey an order.”
Freddie nodded. “I suppose so.”
Thus, trying not to feel vulnerable as he watched the fall of the clear water into the fountain, Freddie forced himself to not glance around to watch his own back. Charles put himself there, easily watching the door, waiting for a footman to walk out and toward the garden. With giving strict orders to the servants to not disturb the master for any reason, he expected only the assassin in disguise would disobey.
Unless he also heard the order, and would not feel safe in going to the garden to kill me, and instead waited for another opportunity.Freddie curbed the uneasiness in his gut and tried to let the fountain soothe his frazzled nerves. A book sat unread in his lap, as he could not focus on the words on the pages.Come on, you bastard, let us get this over with.His inner disquiet grew rather than lessened, even as he took deep breaths to maintain a calm facade.
Goose pimples broke out over the skin of his arms, making him shiver. He knew he was being watched with malicious intent, and tried to look around without making it obvious.He is here, I can feel him.He feigned a yawn, hoping his apparent turpitude might draw the assassin in, his eyes flitting around the garden, never still. Seeing nothing save the flowers bobbing on their stems and the leaves on the trees rustling under the light breeze, Freddie knew he was being stalked.Where are you?
Suddenly, a man in the livery of a groom rushed from his left, from under the shelter of a hedgerow. Not from the door Charles even now guarded, not in the garb of a footman as they had predicted. A groom. A knife glittered under the sunlight, Freddie saw his teeth bared in a fearful grimace as he charged Freddie from a mere ten feet away.
Desperate to avoid the man’s weight falling toward him and the deadly knife, Freddie threw himself off the bench and to the ground. The assassin, expecting that, slashed downward with the dagger, missing Freddie by an inch as he rolled away. Lashing out with his feet, Freddie kicked the man in the thigh, making him grunt in pain. He spun around, diving at Freddie again even as he threw himself across the ground, stabbing, slashing, trying desperately to plunge the blade into Freddie’s body.
Yells and shouts broke from all around as the servants and Charles charged into the garden, brandishing their weapons. The assassin instantly fled, running fast in the direction he came in. A groom lunged at him in a flying tackle, attempting to take him down. The villain dodged aside with an agility that made Freddie’s jaw drop, and the groom hit the ground with a sharp grunt. He vanished into the hedges with the pack of servants on his heels.
Charles stopped at Freddie’s side. “Are you hurt, My Lord?”
“No.” Freddie scrambled to his feet, racing on the heels of his men. Charles ran at his side as they ducked under the low tree branches, leaping flower beds, dodging into the maze of hedgerows. His servants, three of them, stood cursing at the tall garden wall even as another leaped to the top and flung himself over to the other side to vanish.
“My Lord,” gasped a groom. “This is the only place to get over the wall. The man who tried to kill you went over it, but we can only go one at a time.”
Freddie joined them in swearing choice oaths as he gazed around at the shrubs that grew thick right against the wall, leaving only a man-sized, narrow gap between them. “He came in here, too, damn and blast it,” Freddie snapped, making a run at the wall. Though not as fit as his grooms, he did manage to heave himself up and over without disgracing himself.
Facing north, he ran on, seeing his men still running after a very distant figure, dark against the green of the hills. But even as he bolted on their heels, the man who tried to kill him ran fast, as fleet as a deer, and vanished over the top of a hill. Freddie halted, panting lightly, finding Charles at his elbow also gasping for breath. His servants also stopped at the top of the hill, watching as their quarry outran them and no doubt disappeared.
“I will wager that is the last we see of him, My Lord,” Charles said.
Freddie waved in a come hither gesture to his servants in the distance, seeing them turn and walk back down the hill. “Who would have thought that villain could run so fast.”
“I tried, M’ Lord,” said the groom who had landed face down on the garden lawn trying to tackle Freddie’s assailant. “The bugger did move quicker’n a strikin’ snake, he did.”
“I know,” Freddie replied, disgusted and furious that once again his rat in the wall escaped his wrath. “I saw it happen. It was not your fault we did not catch him.”
“It was mine, My Lord.” Charles bowed his head. “I gave no thought that he might climb over that wall, and outflank us. I am a soldier, I should have known better.”
Freddie grinned despite his rage. “None of us saw his coming from that direction, Charles. He obviously knew we intended to trap him, and he still managed to come close to killing me. I suppose we were all blinded by the fact that he uses the house as his home and never gave thought to him disguising himself as a groom and coming from the direction of the stable.”
“I am questioning our assessment that he is not very bright,” Charles said.
“But not that he is desperate,” Freddie added, finally thinking to dust dirt and dead grass from his clothes. “If he is willing to walk into a known trap to kill me, either he is very lucky and knows it, or his master is paying him a great deal.”
Freddie sent the grooms and footmen back to their work with a word of thanks, then he and Charles walked back to the house. Thea must have seen something from the windows, for she burst from the doorway with Mr. Carter behind her. “Freddie? Are you hurt?”
“No,” he called to her, observing her evident worry.
Hiking her skirts, she ran toward him, her brows furrowed and her lips thinned. “Please tell me you caught him,” she said, looking him up and down and finding no injuries.
Freddie shook his head. “He outflanked us, Thea,” he said, his anger rising again. “A groom almost tackled him but missed. That bugger canrun.”
