by Emma Wildes
Jessica couldn’t help but think of the ruffians just below the planks under her feet and shudder. She nodded barely.
“Excellent.” His teeth were a gleam in his dark face. He held up a key. “You will be locked in, of course. For your own safety.”
“Of course,” she repeated ironically.
Jack stared at her a moment before leaving, his dark eyes hooded. He said abruptly, “The exchange is to be at nine o’clock. If Alex hasn’t failed in bringing Eloise to me, he will be given the key once I have my wife, and instructions on what room you are in. It will be that simple.”
Simple. Lord, she hoped so.
Jessica watched him slip out the door, hearing the decisive click of the lock as he fulfilled his promise to make her a prisoner. She paced over to where thick, moth-eaten curtains hung over the one small window in the room and drew the material back, only to see a rank alley ran along the back of the building, the rain forming greasy puddles on the reflections of the damp stones. Even as she stood there peering out, she saw a dark form rise and stagger away, proving the narrow avenue to be occupied by God only knew what kind of ruffian.
She nonetheless tried the window sash. It was stuck shut she discovered as she braced herself and tugged frantically, either from the grime of the centuries or from being whitewashed over time and again.
Click. Click.
Sagging against the rain-streaked glass, Jessica registered the sound and whirled around, her throat tightening.
Click. A scrape of metal on metal. Another click.
She stared at the door, her heart beginning to pound so that the sound resembled the crash of ocean waves on the rocks of a stony beach, filling her ears. The door gave a slight creak as the latch undid and it swung open.
Once before, she’d decided upon a fireplace poker as a suitable weapon. Jessica lunged toward the iron piece leaning against the hearth and lifted it high, brandishing it as she turned to face the man who had slipped into the room. Not sure she was surprised it was the fair young man who had watched her downstairs, she swallowed and demanded, “Who are you? What do you want? I’ll kill you, I swear it, if you as much as take another step.”
“Do so and lose the chance to escape.” Despite the roughness of his clothes and his common accent, Jessica could see clear intelligence in his light eyes. “The name is Tolley. Alfred Tolley. We have no time, Mrs. Ramsey. You must come with me now.” His narrow face was grim and something that looked like a ring of thin pieces of metal dangled from his fingers. “Now,” he added, “before Rivers comes back.”
He knew her. He knew of Jack. Alex must be involved in this.
Dropping the poker, she nodded. “All right. I will go with you.”
He held out his hand and said urgently, “There’s a room at the end of the hallway that does not look over the alley but instead a small spot that once housed a garden. It isn’t occupied yet this evening, and earlier I broke the window out to make sure it would give an avenue of escape. We can leave that way without any noise.”
With a last glance at her nasty surroundings, Jessica dropped the poker and hurried forward, grasping his hand and letting him pull her out into the hallway. Smoky lamps gave little useful illumination as they ran along and she saw only warped doors and heard the raucous sounds from the taproom below. Pushing open the last door with caution, Tolley tugged her inside, drawing her toward the window. Warm, damp evening air flowed through the broken pane.
“Come now, my lady. Out we go.” Tolley leaned out of the sill and motioned toward the ground. “’Tis a bit damp and muddy, that I’ll allow, but the bushes have grown up over the years and your fall should be soft enough. Here I’ll help you and be along right behind. It…er…really isn’t far.”
Despite the assurance, the ground still looked quite a distance away, her destination nothing but a black hole of yawning darkness.
“Ma’am?”
Her alternative was Jack. Grimly, Jessica decided that if she had followed this young man out of the room, she had better follow through and jump out the window. With an unladylike hoist of her skirts, she sat on the sill and swung her legs over. A few heartbeats later, she put her palms firmly on the rotted wood of the frame and pushed off into the night.
Whirling damp air, her skirts flapping like a crow’s wings, her breath going out as she landed, as promised, in a thicket of wild shrubbery. As she floundered to get out of the way, she heard her companion crash down moments later, his breath going out as he plummeted to the ground. Fighting her way out of a bush that seemed to grasp her with claw-like branches, she realized with resignation she was acquiring more unsightly scratches. “What now, Mr. Tolley?”
There was a thin spattering of stars through the tearing rain clouds above. Tolley crawled out of the bush and rose, swiping at his muddy knees. There was a thin line across his chin showing red. He grinned. “You’re game, my lady, as well as lovely. I think I can see why the colonel has been so frantic with worry over losing ye. Come on, we’re to the docks.”
The docks? Jessica thought.
Chapter 19
It chafed like hell to not be the one waiting for Jack at that disgusting wreck of an establishment that was supposed to be an inn, but Alex knew Tolley had been infernally right. Neither he nor Marcus would easily blend in to such a place. Even soaked to the skin and muddy, they would stand out for what they were. Instead, they had decided to reconnoiter the docks, certain that the only reason Rivers would have chosen such a meeting spot was that safe sea passage had been arranged. Not sure but apprehensive of how he would react when his wife was not available for exchange, it seemed best to know where he might be going, especially if he decided to drag Jessica along as a hostage.
And indeed, a little nosing around and some dropped coin yielded interesting results.
Slinking in the shadows, they surveyed the clean lines of the small ship that bobbed at its moorings. Marcus mused, “La Dame. With a French captain, no less. Looks like she’s ready to sail at any time. She must be what we seek.”
Jaw tight with worry, all Alex could say was, “Perhaps, brother.”
Damp face gleaming in the twilight, Marcus turned and furrowed his brow. “Perhaps? She sits here for weeks, not taking on cargo, her crew reputably surly and foreign, and she has a French captain. Are you telling me Bonaparte would send one of his finest spies on such a deadly mission and not at least offer some mode of escape?” A derisive snort issued. “Are you also telling me that Rivers isn’t smart enough and valuable enough to demand it?”
“He is that.” It was said through Alex’s teeth. It was hard for him to be elated by finding the ship, not with his thoughts so riveted on what might happening back at the Swine and Nettle. Right now, even as they crouched like alley cats in the shadows, Tolley watched for Jack and Jessica to arrive at the inn. Tolley—not he—would be the one to hopefully free her.
Damn it to hell.
He wanted to see her safe with own hands, by his own sword, if need be.
He wanted to spark the light of relief and thankfulness in those magnificent silver eyes.
And he, if he was honest, wanted to rescue her. To hold her in his arms and tell her finally he loved her. Then he would make love to her in a way she would not doubt his sincerity.
A trio of sailors stalked by, all of them drunk by their rolling walk and boisterous talk, their boots sliding across the slick planking. Marcus murmured, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Incredulously, Alex turned, a cynical laugh trapped in his throat. “I certainly hope not. Otherwise I’d have to shove my fist halfway down your throat.”
His brother’s puzzled expression was instantly replaced with amused exasperation. “Damned lovesick fool. I am not thinking about Jessica, thank you. Ariel is quite enough trouble for me. I meant the ship. We need to watch her.”
“We need to get back and help Tolley protect my wife.” “You help Tolley. Leave La Dame to me.”
Alex instant
ly shook his head. “Jack is damned dangerous, Marc. You didn’t see what he did to O’Brien. I’ll not leave you here alone.”
Marcus tugged at his hat, pulling it lower over his face. “God’s blood, I am more than a little offended. Seems to me you were perfectly able to confront Rivers in my garden all alone. What am I? An infant? I am not unarmed and know what I am facing. Go back to the inn, Alex. Maybe they have arrived by now.”
Glancing over at his brother as he stood flattened against the side of a sagging and sea-weathered warehouse, Alex could see that Marcus did have that square-jawed look that tended to cross his face whenever he was set on something. Even as a child, that jut of the chin was a telltale sign of a stubborn stand about to happen. And maybe Marcus was right. Eyes narrowed on the ship as it rocked gently in the tide, wet, bedraggled and muddy, nevertheless the Duke of Grayston had an aura of tough competence out of character with his usual practical elegance.
The truth was, Alex wasn’t sure he could stand the incredible tension of waiting another second anyway. Not even before the most ferocious of battles had he felt such a wound spring of energy tingling through every nerve. He said thickly, “All right, Marcus, I’ll go back and you stay here. If Jack should get past us, I want someone to prevent him from leaving…within reasonable limits. Remember you have a wife and children. I would die for Jessica but I don’t ask the same of you.”
Marcus’s smile was brief. “I remember my family every second of the day. However, if you recall, Rivers murdered three friends of mine. Jessica is my first concern, but I’d like to see him pay for those crimes with his traitorous neck.”
“So would I,” Alex muttered as he edged away and turned to glance down the quay. “So would I.”
* * * *
She and Tolley had not gone but a few steps before Jessica heard the crashing sound of a body much heavier than Tolley’s slight form plummet into the same tangled and neglected bushes beneath the window.
Her heart, which had been pounding so wildly at their daring escape, seemed to stop and freeze solidly in her chest.
The following low hiss out of the darkness only confirmed her worst fears. “Halt!”
Alfred Tolley uttered a low curse and whirled around. A tall form sprang from the crushed ruins of the wild vegetation beneath the window, fluid and dangerous even in the gloom of impending nightfall. The grating sound of a harsh laugh rang out, and metal gleamed from the shadows.
Jack Rivers stepped forward, that long knife she so dreaded pointed directly at her would-be rescuer. His voice was low. “What is this? A gallant attempt to wrest the lady from my tender care?”
Tolley said nothing, but Jessica could hear his breath whistle past his lips. The eaves dripped steadily in a solemn drone.
Coming even more out of the shadows, Rivers drew his brows together. “Surely you didn’t think me stupid enough to not recognize you, my young friend, even with a hat pulled low. I never forget a face, and especially the face of a man who once held a gun pointed at my heart. Once I entered the taproom and saw you were gone, I drew the correct conclusions. I take it my old friend, Alex Ramsey, is nearby?”
The delicately put question was ludicrous in the surroundings of rotting plants, creaking timbers, and the sickly lamplight from the inn. Tolley seemed to thrust back his thin shoulders and Jessica could see his right hand lift to hover casually by his coat pocket. “Yes, sir. He and your wife, of course.”
“If so, then why the attempt to free Mrs. Ramsey? Why not just wait for the exchange as planned?”
Next to her, Tolley shrugged and slipped his hand fully into his pocket. “No offense, sir, but I don’t believe your word carries as much weight with the colonel as it once might have.”
They were just paces from the street, shielded from view by only the overgrown fence around once had been around the tiny garden. Jessica could hear the opening and closing of the door of the inn, the creak and rattle of wheels against the cobblestones, the drift of song and loud laughter…
In one blinding moment, everything changed. Tolley, slim and boyish in his rough clothes, jumped, a knife suddenly appearing in his hand. A scream tore from her throat, unnoticed by both of them as Jack surged to meet the assault. One of them grunted as they crashed into each other, followed by a low groan. To her horror, Jessica saw Jack throw the young man to the ground and Tolley roll to his back to lay there limply, his face a pale slash on the dark ground.
“No!” She flung herself forward, falling to her knees beside Tolley. Already she could see the dark seep of blood from a wound in his side through a tear in the worn material of his coarse shirt. His eyes were closed but at least she could see his chest lift in even breaths.
Jack ordered harshly, “Get up, madam. There is nothing you can do for him.”
Her mouth was dry and shaking, her hands hovering uselessly over the bleeding boy. Dimly she realized that she kneeled on something long and hard, her cloak bunched beneath her on the weed-choked ground.
Tolley’s knife.
She had barely time to shift a little so she could grasp it before Rivers caught her arm and without ceremony dragged her toward the street. Feet slipping and sliding, she fought and sobbed, unable to bear the thought yet another might die at the hands of such a cold-blooded killer, much less a young man who had tried to save her. Jack’s fingers cut into the soft flesh of her forearm with relentless pressure and she didn’t care in the least, struggling every inch of the way, using her twisting movements to hide how she’d slipped the knife into the inside pocket of her cloak. She cried, “Let me go.”
“Quiet.” With an admonishing shake, he pulled her out onto the slick cobblestones. His face thrust next to hers, he rasped, “Your husband has been very foolish.”
Before Jessica could even respond, a quiet voice came out of the shadows. “Has he? Might I ask how?” The question was so soft that Jessica might not have heard it except that the tone of the voice. It was chillingly angry. Jack went entirely still.
A woman stepped out of the darkness formed by the listing side of the ancient building. She was diminutive, wrapped head to toe in a black cloak, but the grace of her step and suggestion of form under the enveloping folds of cloth proclaimed her gender. One slender hand moved sharply upward to sweep back her hood. Blond hair reflected the uncertain moonlight, obscured as it was by the misting rain. The tightening of her captor’s fingers was the only reaction to the caustic greeting that Jessica could sense. A slamming heartbeat passed before Rivers inclined his head slightly. “Eloise.”
Two men staggered out of the inn, casting bleary and incurious glances at the three of them standing at the edge of the street, before lurching away. Eloise Rivers simply stared at the two of them, unmoving. Her gaze flickered briefly to Jessica’s face before returning to her husband. “Must I ask you again, Jack? How has Colonel Ramsey made a mistake, and what, pray tell, is his wife doing here?”
A trickle of water ran along Jessica’s collarbone from the persistent mist and she quivered, both from the sensation and the cold edge of the question. Jack said, “I don’t understand your confusion, my dear. Didn’t Ramsey tell you the reason he freed you was in order to gain back his pretty little wife?”
“Tell me?” Eloise’s eyes glittered with unmistakable fury, visible even in the dim light. “How could he tell me anything when he is back in London? And since when would I need anyone to free me? I am El Diablo, more capable than any man. I set fire to the building, those stupid English fools leaving me a candle and paper to write with. Fortunately, Francois aided my escape and secured a carriage and funds for our journey here. As we speak, he is inside, arranging to send word to La Dame that we sail immediately.”
“Immediately?” Jack’s breath went out in a gust that stirred Jessica’s hair. “You would make such arrangements before you knew I was here?”
The reply was swift and scornful. “Of course.”
Jack’s reaction rippled through his entire body. His hands gripp
ed more fiercely than before and Jessica stifled a small cry of pain. After a moment, he spoke quietly, his voice dripping with irony. “This is hardly the tender reunion I had imagined, my love. Surely, without doubt, you would not have sailed without me? Upon fighting my way free of capture, my first thoughts were how to best secure your release and I traveled immediately to Berkshire and invited Mrs. Ramsey here to be my guest. I knew Alex would do anything I asked to regain his lovely bride.”
“You criminal fool!” Eloise hissed, the pale oval of her face distorted and ugly. “Do not tell me you told him to meet you here? Dear God, I knew you could be as idiotic as the next man, allowing yourself to believe I loved you, that my rescue back in Spain wasn’t anything but a calculated plan to gain a plausible entrance to London society. And you were a very obedient helpmate, my pet, yes, so you were. But that all ended the minute you led Colonel Ramsey straight to our doorstep. And it appears you have done it again.” Her voice dropped in tone. “And for that, I damn you straight to hell.”
The man holding her stiffened and Jessica gasped as he suddenly shoved her violently away. A single shot rang out, the sickening thud of a bullet hitting flesh making her entire insides twist even as she skidded on the wet, filthy street and fell to her knees. At that moment a young man emerged from the inn and came running toward them, barely glancing at where she lay half-sprawled in the street. Staggering to her feet, Jessica turned fearfully around.
“Sacred name! Must you make such a racket, Eloise?” The new arrival rocked to an abrupt stop when he saw the body of Jack Rivers slumped against the garden fence, and he added softly, “Ah, I see. It seems you worried with good reason that he might get here before us.”
“This is for the best, Francois, as he might have followed me to France.” The cool tone held a note of impatience but no regret. “Here, give me your pistol and reload mine, cherie. We need to leave at once.”
