"Gervase!" she gasped, "he's over there, at the top of the statue."
They pushed their way toward the elevated structure, commemorating a long dead king, where Sir John was shading his eyes and looking out over the parade route. As he shifted his position, Elizabeth saw Mr. Forester and her mother standing next to him. She watched in horror as the cacophony of noise swelled to unbearable levels and Mr. Forester drew a pistol from his coat pocket and polished it with his handkerchief.
She screamed, "No!" The duke shouted something back at her as he forged ahead. She was only at the base of the statue when the duke began to climb, his attention fixed on Mr. Forester.
As if in a dream, she saw the Prince Regent's carriage approaching along the Strand and Gervase lowering his head and charging Mr. Forester. She had just grasped the leg of the statue and pulled herself up when the duke and his prey disappeared over the side and crashed into the street below, narrowly missing the departing royal carriage.
Before Elizabeth could react, her attention fell on her mother, whose face was a chalky mask of rage. Fear crowded her throat but she forced herself to crawl forward as Mrs. Forester drew a pistol out of her reticule and pointed it at the disappearing carriage. Mimicking the duke's tactics, Elizabeth threw herself at her mother and pushed her backward off the side of the stone plinth. The gun went off and her mother screamed as they fell together in a tangle of petticoats.
Elizabeth's right shoulder impacted the cobbled street and she rolled away. Suddenly, she was surrounded by a bevy of armed soldiers. Amidst the barked orders and screams of the crowd, Elizabeth could scarcely bear to look at her mother, who lay unmoving on the ground. A thin trickle of blood ran from her mouth and her fingers remained locked around the smoking gun.
Nicholas appeared, his face anxious, his coat bloodstained. "Are you unhurt, Miss Waterstone?" He helped her to her feet. She leaned against him and fought a wave of dizziness.
"Is my mother all right?"
Nicholas glanced over his shoulder to where Mrs. Forester was being assisted to her feet. "I think so. You needn't worry about the duke either, the bullet only clipped his shoulder..."
Elizabeth looked wildly around for Gervase. He was propped up against the base of the statue, an ominous red stain growing ever wider on his filthy white shirt. His eyes were closed, his long eyelashes stark against the paleness of his skin.
"Gervase..." she whispered and took a faltering step toward him. Someone caught her arm.
"He will be fine, Miss Waterstone. Doctor Wilkinson is taking him home now." Startled, Elizabeth looked up into the battered face of Jack Llewelyn. He kept hold of her hand and led her back through the gawking crowd to a waiting carriage. "Will you come with me, Miss Waterstone? Michael will be delighted to see that you are safe."
Elizabeth allowed him to hand her into the carriage and shut the door. The crowds parted momentarily and gave her a final glimpse of the duke being carefully lifted from the ground by four of the soldiers. She pressed her face against the filthy window and watched until he disappeared from sight.
Chapter 35
Jack Llewelyn paced the worn carpet in the Foresters' drawing room with military precision. It was past ten o'clock on the morning following the parade and since breakfast they had been discussing the events leading up to the assassination attempt. He paused by the window, his expression intent, and Elizabeth braced herself for yet another question.
Rain had descended, turning the skies a sullen, leaden, gray. A thick pall of smoke left behind from the fireworks and cannon fire crawled along the deserted pavements and crept spider-like over the treetops.
After the tumultuous events of the previous day, the house seemed strangely quiet. A bewildered Mary had been dispatched to spend the night with friends and was not due to return for several days. Elizabeth was alone with Michael and Jack Llewelyn.
"Tell me again, Miss Waterstone." Jack Llewelyn swung around to face Elizabeth. "Why did you decide to alter the code?"
Elizabeth sighed and exchanged a wry glance with Michael. "As I've already explained, when I saw the codes copied into Sir John's notebook, and found the notebook in my stepfather's possession, I suspected that Sir John was in league with my stepfather. I hoped to prevent him from sharing the correct translation with the Prince's enemies."
Michael intervened. "But why did you bother to alter the code when you must have suspected that Sir John would change it again before he gave it to the Foreign Office?"
Elizabeth shrugged and smoothed the soft muslin folds of the girlish gown she had been obliged to borrow from Mary. "I didn't know if he would, but I thought it likely. I wanted to make sure that, whatever happened, Sir John would have the wrong code." She crossed her arms around herself and shivered, the horrible images of the previous day fresh in her memory. "The duke threw me out before I could speak to him directly about my suspicions. I didn't realize then that by asking for your help, I would put you both in danger as well."
Jack Llewelyn smiled at Michael in a particularly irritating male way and said, "We weren't treated badly. We were just locked in the study. I only got a black eye because I attempted to warn the duke."
Elizabeth studied her brother. He appeared more animated since his brush with disaster than he had been for years. She would never understand men. Gathering her dwindling resources, she turned her attention back to Jack Llewelyn.
"Mr. Llewelyn," Elizabeth said firmly, "I think I've explained quite enough about my part in this sordid affair. I would appreciate a little more openness from you. How is it that the son of a duke is working as a nurse, and why are you so interested in what happened yesterday?"
Jack locked gazes with her and Elizabeth caught a glimpse of the steel behind his effortless charm. "As I'm sure you already know, I was cast out by my ducal family. I've no money, Miss Waterstone, and no skills other than fighting and binding up wounds. I'm no longer considered fit to grace society, so what else would you have me do?"
Elizabeth gave him her hardest stare, convinced that he was still concealing at least part of the truth, but unwilling to add to the complicated mess of feelings in her already overtaxed mind. "You didn't answer my question, Mr. Llewelyn. Fortunately for you, I really don't have the energy to care at the moment."
She sat next to her brother and pressed her fingertips to her aching brow. Michael reached for her hand. "Elizabeth, what do you intend to do now that the Foreign Office has cleared us of blame and taken Sir John and the Foresters into custody?"
Elizabeth pressed her lips together. She still found it hard to believe her mother had wanted her dead. "I don't know. I can't pay Mr. Llewelyn unless I find another occupation, and I've no references." She looked down at her clasped hands. "Lord Vincent asked me to accompany him to Switzerland, but I don't want to give him the impression that I could grow to care for him..."
"You can come home with me, my dear."
Elizabeth raised her head. As if summoned by her deepest longings, the duke had appeared at the door. Although he wore a stylish black coat, one sleeve hung empty and his left arm was in a sling. His gaze swept over Jack Llewelyn and Michael as he bowed.
"Would you allow me a few moments of privacy with your sister, Lieutenant Waterstone? There is much we need to discuss."
Michael looked at Elizabeth and she nodded. The duke closed the door and, unwilling to face him, Elizabeth rose, presenting him with her back. She walked over to the window and counted her shallow breaths as she waited for him to break the silence.
The duke cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about your mother. I was unsure whether or not she was involved in the plot and my ignorance nearly cost you your life."