“So it was not Turlington who took you, then?” she asked once her breathing had returned to normal. “The runner, Greenshaw, sent word last night that they’d found his body in his house last night. Even if he wasn’t responsible for your kidnapping, I cannot help but feel some relief at knowing he is no longer endangering young women.”
Anna made a noncommittal noise, and continued to scan the scene outside the window, doubtless to ensure they were not being followed.
“I never liked him,” Juliet continued. “Of course, I had thought it was because Mama spent so much time trying to convince me to marry him. I had wondered if he might be Il Maestro, but to be honest he never seemed to have the bottom for it. Even his attempt at stopping our elopement was a dismal failure.”
“Yes,” Anna said briskly, “well, you would be surprised just what someone will do if they are pushed hard enough. Take my situation for instance. Turned off without a reference from your parents. With child and nowhere to go. Some circumstances will drive a woman to take desperate measures.”
Juliet frowned. “But your situation worked out well enough, did it not?” she asked. “You had your own little house, and were able to teach and keep Baby Alice close to you.”
“If you call a dingy little house in a questionable area of town, saddled with a crying brat, well enough,” Anna said with a scowl, “then yes, I suppose I did get on well enough.”
At a loss for words, Juliet stared at her friend. It had occurred to her, of course, that Anna might resent her change in circumstances. After all, none of it was her fault. She had not sought out the addresses of her rapist after all. But she had thought Anna more resilient than she seemed to indicate just now.
“You are exhausted from your ordeal,” she said carefully. “Of course you are. I do go on so, don’t I. Just rest for a bit, dearest, and soon we’ll have the others freed and you will be able to get the rest you need.”
“But how can I rest when there is likely some other poor woman out there being subjected to the most hideous indignities imaginable at the hands of a loathsome man?”
Juliet couldn’t see her friend’s expression, but she knew from her tone of voice that Anna was genuinely distressed at the notion.
“I know you must feel such anguish over their fates, dearest,” she told her friend, “but for now we can only do what we must for these poor creatures who are being held by your captor. Then once that is done, we shall do what we can for the rest of the women you worry for.”
To her relief, Anna seemed to calm down, and reached out to squeeze Juliet’s hand. “I knew you would understand, Juliet. You have been such a comfort to me since my ordeal. And you yourself have had to endure such hardship as well. Yes, you will make an excellent sister in my new endeavor.”
There was something about her friend’s tone that bothered Juliet. Some note of zeal that made her uneasy. “What new endeavor?” she asked. “Do you mean to begin a charity for unwed mothers or the like? I believe I can use my new position as the Viscountess Deveril to—”
But Anna interrupted her before she could finish. “Oh, no, Juliet, you won’t be going back to Deveril. Not after what you must have endured at his hands.” Before Juliet could protest, her friend continued. “Goodness, given his father’s reputation I can only imagine what the son is like. No, you’ll be with me. In fact, we might even add Deveril to our list of quarries.”
Stunned, Juliet felt a twist of fear in her gut. “What do you mean by quarries, Anna?”
“Oh, you know,” her friend and mentor said, as if she were describing the alphabet to a child, “our victims. I dislike calling them victims, though. It sounds so sordid. When in reality they are the ones who are sordid.”
Twenty-three
“I got the idea,” Anna continued, “from Turlington. I told you a little fib, dearest. There was no captor. Just Turlington. He is the one who had the idea of painting fallen women as fallen women. And he needed me to help him procure them. Anyway, at the time I thought it was a noble calling, warning young women through art to protect themselves from fates like mine. But I soon realized that Turlington was enjoying the women more than sending the warning messages. So I had to put a stop to that.”
Juliet swallowed. Anna was ill. Whether because of what she’d endured at Turlington’s hands, or from something that had happened to her earlier, she did not know. But clearly the friend she’d known and loved for all these years was ill and Juliet would need to do something to keep her from harming anyone else.
“How did you stop him, Anna?” she asked, trying to figure out what part of town they were in. She’d made the mistake of not paying attention when they’d first left the Sydenhams’ and now she greatly feared that unless some telltale sound or scent made itself known she would be unable to ascertain their direction until they disembarked.
“Certainly nothing like he did to his models,” Anna said, her tone censorious. “When I think of how hard I worked to convince some of those girls to come with me, I become furious at Turlington all over again. I had no idea, mind you, no idea that he planned to use them just as their original seducers had done before their downfalls. I thought I was leading them to die a noble death, and to serve as an example to other young women who might be in danger of following a similar path.”
Closing her eyes against the idea of Anna’s role in those young women’s deaths, Juliet forced herself to make her keep talking in the hopes that Anna would tell her just where they were heading.
“So, did Turlington die in the place where we are going?” she asked, careful to keep her tone conversational.
But Anna had enough of her wits about her to guess Juliet’s intention. “Now, Juliet,” she chided, “you will learn soon enough where we are headed. You mustn’t play guessing games. I cannot risk you escaping and telling that husband of yours where I am.”
“But I thought I was coming to be your compatriot,” Juliet said, wishing that the carriage ride would end so that she could do something to alert Alec. “Do you not trust me?”
Anna’s laugh was sad, wistful. “I wish I could, Juliet,” she said. “Truly I do, but I know how difficult it can be to disengage oneself from a man once he has one in his spell. I don’t blame you, of course. I suspect Deveril, for all that he is the spawn of the Devil, can be quite charming. But until I am well and truly sure that you are no longer in his thrall, I’m afraid I cannot trust you.”
To Juliet’s relief she was saved a reply by the stopping of the carriage.
“Ah, excellent,” Anna said. “Here we are at last.”
Taking up her own mask, Anna folded it in half and bade Juliet to come closer. Guessing what she intended, Juliet cursed inwardly as Anna tied it around Juliet’s eyes, like a blindfold.
“I apologize for this, Juliet,” she said soothingly, “but it is the trust issue again, I’m afraid. I have no doubt you will prove yourself loyal to me soon enough. After all, I have had so many more years with you than Deveril has.”
Praying that she would soon have many more years with Deveril, Juliet allowed herself to be led from the carriage. And prayed.
* * *
When Deveril, Winterson, and Monteith arrived at the Sydenhams’, it was to find Cecily and Maddie waiting for their carriage in the entrance hall.
“Thank God you’re here, Winterson,” Cecily said with relief as she spied them. “Juliet is missing.”
“Dammit,” Alec said, his frustration making him curt. “What happened?”
“She didn’t tell us why she wished to come tonight,” Maddie said. “But we suspected she was coming to meet someone about Mrs. Turner.”
“Why?” Winterson asked, his gaze on Cecily.
“She was never very good at keeping secrets,” his wife explained. Then realizing that she was talking about the girl who had kept her amputation a secret for years, she shrugged. “Not this kind of secret, anyway.”
“She has never liked attending balls before so we guessed she
must have received word about Mrs. Turner, so we agreed to come with her,” Maddie said. “Then when we found this, our suspicions were confirmed.”
Maddie held out the note Juliet had dropped in the portrait gallery.
“I think she meant to leave this for us,” she said, her brows drawn. “As a clue when she left with Mrs. Turner.”
“How do you know she wasn’t taken?” Alec asked, looking up from the note Anna had sent Juliet.
“We asked Lady Sydenham’s footmen if they remembered seeing anyone in the gallery. And aside from Juliet, they described a lady in Grecian dress whom I assume was Mrs. Turner. And he said he saw them leave together. Juliet was walking on her own. With no prodding from Mrs. Turner.”
Alec cursed again, and turned to leave.
“Wait, Deveril,” Winterson said, hurrying after him. “You don’t know where they’ve gone.”
“I have a good idea,” Alec said as Monteith, Cecily, and Maddie caught up to them. “Turlington kept some rented rooms in Cheapside where he painted and God knows what else. It’s where his body was found. It will be empty still since the runners have requested they not be let again until they’ve finished their investigation. I have little doubt that Mrs. Turner will return there for whatever it is she means to do to Juliet.”
Winterson nodded. “Here’s our carriage,” he said as the conveyance Cecily had called for earlier arrived. “Take it.”
“Not without us,” Cecily protested, pulling Maddie along behind her.
With a sigh, Alec handed them into the carriage, followed by Winterson and Monteith.
He was in a hurry, but he would doubtless need all the help he could get if he were going to get Juliet back unharmed.
Twenty-four
Juliet blinked against the candlelight when Anna removed the blindfold from her eyes. They were in what was clearly an artist’s studio. Presumably Turlington’s, or Il Maestro’s if the paintings were anything to judge by.
“I am sorry for that,” Anna said, stepping back from where Juliet stood near the mantel. “As you can see, we are in the studio of the artist formerly known as Il Maestro. Of course he is known only as dead now.”
The gallows humor was lost on Juliet, who was still trying to accustom herself to the idea that the woman she’d known as a dear friend was also a murderess. Still, it would not do to anger her. She didn’t wish to end up like Turlington.
“So how did you dispatch him?” she asked, looking away from the macabre paintings lining the wall. “I can only hope that it was something befitting his crimes,” she added, hoping to convince Anna that she was pleased to learn of Turlington’s demise.
“Oh, have no fear of that,” Anna assured her, gesturing that Juliet should take a seat before the fireplace. “I treated him like the rat he was.”
The room was chilly, and Juliet couldn’t help a little shiver as Anna knelt before the fire to light it. For a fleeting second, she considered using her walking stick to subdue her captor, but Anna turned just as Juliet thought of it.
“Excellent,” she said, hoping she sounded as if she approved of her friend’s murderous actions.
“You needn’t placate me, Juliet,” Mrs. Turner said with a rueful smile. “I know you are somewhat horrified by what I’ve become. But that’s just because you are still under Deveril’s thumb. You will see the sense in what I’ve done and what I plan before long. It will just take a bit of time for you to understand.”
“Th-thank you for your understanding, Anna.”
Taking the seat across from Juliet’s, Anna smiled. “It isn’t difficult. You were always my favorite pupil. Certainly the most talented. Once we have little Alice here with us, we will have a wonderful life here together. Without men to disturb us with their pawing and demands.”
“Alice?” Juliet asked, remembering the man who had tried to get into the baby’s room the other night. “Were you the one who tried to take her, then?”
“Of course,” Anna said seriously. “I thought to bring her here just as soon as Turlington was dead, but I realize now that was foolish of me. I should not have tried to bring her here until I had you here too.”
She reached across to grasp Juliet’s hand. “It will be wonderful. Mark my words.”
Just then, a light knock sounded on the door of the room, and a footman bearing a tea tray stepped inside.
“Here you are, madam,” the man said, his face lowered so that Juliet had a difficult time seeing it.
* * *
They’d had the Winterson coachman stop several houses down from Turlington’s house so as not to alert Mrs. Turner, should she indeed have Juliet there. The gentlemen left a protesting Cecily and Maddie behind with instructions to wait in the carriage. And when they walked the short distance to Turlington’s house they saw that there were lights burning within.
“You were right, Dev,” Winterson told him in an undertone. “Now how do we manage to get inside without endangering Juliet?”
“I suppose knocking on the door and paying a social call is out?” Monteith asked, only half joking. “Sometimes the easiest way is the most direct.”
“In this case, I don’t think so,” Deveril said. “For all that she helped Turlington dispatch half a dozen women, her real enmity is for men. I think having the three of us show up on her doorstep would be met with the same welcome as Napoleon visiting Allied headquarters.”
“Good point.” Monteith nodded.
“There are certain men that she can’t help but deal with,” Winterson said suddenly.
At Deveril’s and Monteith’s questioning looks, he grinned, and indicated that they should follow him around to the mews.
“Servants,” Winterson said. “Is Mrs. Turner about to acquire three new footmen?”
Alec nodded. “According to Greenshaw, Turlington’s valet has remained to see that his master’s possessions are properly distributed and disposed of. I do not see why he would not have brought some of the footmen from Turlington House to assist him.”
It took but a few minutes to lure Turlington’s elderly valet from the kitchens and subdue him. As the shortest of the three, Deveril was the one who was assessed to be the most likely to fit into the old man’s clothes. It was a testament to his love for Juliet that he donned the filthy garments without once complaining at their ill fit.
The only other servant had been a cook, who was more than happy to take the princely sum given her by Monteith and embark for her sister’s house in Yorkshire.
Alec was just buttoning up the coat when Cecily and Maddie slipped into the kitchen of the mean little house.
“Why are you here?” Winterson demanded. “You should go back to the carriage.” Then remembering that the carriage was likely a dark London street away, he amended, “You should go out into the garden.”
“Juliet is our cousin and our friend,” Cecily told him firmly, mindful of keeping her voice low lest Mrs. Turner hear them. “And I will not wait quietly while she is in danger.”
“Besides that,” Maddie added, her voice equally low, “you might need us. Especially since it appears that Mrs. Turner is not at all fond of gentlemen.”
“She has a point,” Monteith said quietly. “Maybe we should send one of them in with the tea tray.”
“Absolutely not,” Winterson and Deveril said at once. The two exchanged a look of equanimity.
“I am going,” Alec said, pulling down the tail of his coat. “When I give the signal, come in. Do you remember which book?”
“Yes,” Winterson said. “Good luck.”
With a brisk nod, Alec took up the laden tea tray and made his way through the house and into Turlington’s study, where he found the secret passageway already opened. Well, that was one less hoop Winterson and Monteith would need to jump through when he gave the signal.
Inside the studio, he saw to his relief that Juliet was well enough and seated before the fire talking with Mrs. Turner.“I don’t recognize you,” Mrs. Turner said curtly. “Wh
ere is Jones?”
“It’s his ’alf day, madam,” Alec said, a note of placation in his tone. “I’m ’is nephew, Thomas.”
* * *
Juliet looked at the fellow; something about his voice made her heart beat faster. Careful not to let Anna notice, she looked the man over and was once again struck by a familiarity. She knew those wide shoulders, that nipped-in waist, even the boots polished to a high gloss.
That was no servant! That was her husband!
“Thank you so much,” she said, her enthusiasm brighter than the situation warranted. “I am parched.”
Daring to look up into her husband’s face, Juliet was unaccountably reassured by his wink. “A nice cuppa is just the thing, me mam always says, miss,” he said. “Especially when yer expectin’ a crowd for supper.”
“Well, we aren’t expecting a crowd, young man,” Anna snapped, “so you may take your platitudes and return to the kitchen.”
Juliet stared at Alec, trying to figure out what he’d meant. “Expecting a crowd,” he’d said. Could he mean that she should expect more help? Yes, that had to be what he meant.
“Aye, madam,” he said to Anna. “I’ll just go back to the kitchen and stir the pot. Don’t you worry none. We’ll take care of things right and tight.”
Obviously the admonition not to worry meant Alec had some plan, Juliet thought. But what? Who had he brought with him? She had no concerns for herself, since Anna, though deranged, seemed willing enough to trust her. But Alec could be in real danger—especially given Anna’s hatred of the entire male sex.
How to Romance a Rake Page 29
