by Stella Riley
Watching him take the stairs two at a time, Charles shouted, ‘Wait! If you know something --’
‘I don’t,’ called Sebastian from half-way up. ‘I can only guess.’
Sir Charles was left staring helplessly at Lord Sarre. ‘What does he mean?’
‘I imagine,’ replied Adrian, his tone very grim, ‘he thinks that, like the baby at Drury Lane, this may be the work of Miranda Silvarez.’
‘But – but why? How can that woman even know Cassie?’
‘I’ve no idea and doubt if Sebastian has either. But he has to start somewhere. And given recent events, if you were him, what would you think?’
Sebastian came back, having changed his footwear. Crossing to the bureau, he took the jewelled Russian knife he’d worn to Bedford House from a drawer and slipped it into his right boot.
‘That is a bad idea,’ said Adrian flatly. ‘Put it away.’
‘It’s a precaution. Would you prefer I took a loaded pistol?’
‘I’d prefer you didn’t go armed at all. And it’s nearly midnight. If you’re thinking of descending on your former mistress, her servants aren’t going to let you in.’
‘I don’t plan on giving them a choice and will wake the whole damned street if I have to,’ came the clipped reply. ‘Go home, Charles. Her ladyship must be distraught. You should also send word to Bow Street in the hope they can find the driver of that hackney. One of the street urchins they pay for information might have seen something. And if they want to prevent a potential murder, they might also like to send an officer to number eleven, Half Moon Street.’ He glanced around, his expression iron-hard. ‘I don’t know why or how Miranda would take Cassandra but I can’t think of anyone else who’d do it either. If I learn anything, I’ll send word.’
He turned on his heel and swung away to the door. With a brief muffled curse, Adrian strode after him, saying, ‘Don’t be an ass, Sebastian. How the hell do you think you’ll manage this on your own? I’m coming with you.’
En route for Half Moon Street, Adrian said, ‘Would she know you want to marry Cassie?’
‘No. Aside from yourself and Cassandra’s parents, no one does. But Miranda’s devious, vindictive and capable of anything. She’s also apparently obsessed – not just with making my life a misery but with bringing me down to her own level. She learned Cassandra’s name a couple of weeks ago at Vauxhall. If she’s been having me followed – which isn’t impossible – she may know we went riding together. I don’t know, Adrian. I don’t bloody know! But I’ve got to do something and this is all I can think of.’
Like its neighbours, the house in Half Moon Street was in darkness. With unrestrained violence, Sebastian plied the knocker and then hammered the door with his fist until it shuddered. Eventually, a light showed. Sebastian continued his assault and shouted, ‘Open up! Now, curse you – before I summon the Watch!’
Lights were also appearing at the houses on either side. A window was thrown open, through which a night-capped head emerged, demanding to know what the devil was going on. Ignoring it, Sebastian shouted again and kicked the door. And finally there were sounds of bolts being withdrawn and the door opened a crack.
‘Sir, I must protest --’ began a querulous voice.
Sebastian shouldered the door wide and stepped inside. ‘Where’s your mistress?’
‘N-Not at home, sir.’ Clad in his nightshirt, the butler who had admitted Sebastian on his one and only previous visit shivered and wrung his hands.
‘No?’ Sebastian surged past him and headed for the stairs. ‘You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you. Which is her room?’
‘No – really, sir. She isn’t here. And I can’t permit you to --’
‘I didn’t ask for permission. Adrian – check downstairs. I’ll take the bedchambers.’
‘You bloody well won’t.’ A muscular fellow roughly the size of a barn door walked out to plant himself at the foot of the staircase. ‘You’ll turn around and sod off, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘Likewise, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my way,’ snapped Sebastian, not pausing in his advance.
‘Madam’s not ’ere and you ain’t going rampaging about through ’er ’ouse.’
‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, ‘I am.’
And without further hesitation, he drove his elbow under the man’s jaw. The bruiser staggered but regained his balance and charged at Sebastian, roaring. Sebastian spun sideways delivered one hard kick to the kneecap, a second to a place even more painful and was off up the stairs before his adversary hit the marble floor, clutching his groin.
‘If he gets up, keep him busy,’ he shouted, before disappearing round the turn of the stairs.
Lord Sarre grunted something incomprehensible and prepared to do his best.
It did not take Sebastian long to find Miranda’s bedchamber. It was in darkness, the fire almost burned out and the bed empty. He lit a couple of candles and started a rapid search, hoping to find a letter or note – anything that might give him some clue about Miranda’s current activities. There was nothing. Sebastian swore viciously and flew back downstairs.
He found Adrian on the floor, holding the hulk by the ears while the rotund, night-shirted butler sat on his chest. At some other time, it might have been funny. Right now, the black hole in Sebastian’s chest was swallowing up every thought save one.
‘I had to hit him again but he’ll be coming round soon enough,’ said Adrian. ‘Meanwhile, we’ve established that Andrews here knows nothing at all but that the girl hiding over there in the stair-well might.’
Sebastian peered into the shadows. ‘And you are?’
‘Polly.’ A scowling, angular young woman advanced into the light. ‘In another house, I’d be a ladies’ maid. In this one, I’m a bloody dogsbody. As for Madam with her nasty temper – she never says where she’s going or when she’ll be back. Like as not, she’s spending the night in some fellow’s bed but I couldn’t tell you whose.’
‘Have there been any visitors today?’
Polly shook her head. ‘The only visitor she ever has is that Mr Penhaligon and he hasn’t been near for days.’ She pointed at the recumbent figure on the floor which was now just starting to stir. ‘Randall’s the one to ask about what Madam might be getting up to. He comes and goes at all hours and never lifts a finger in the house – so I reckon she’s paying him to do some dirty work for her. Common as muck and poisonous as a snake, she is.’
‘You have that right.’
A jerk of Sebastian’s head told Adrian and the butler to move aside; and when they did so, he put one foot in a strategic location with just enough pressure to cause discomfort. Randall’s eyes flew open in time to see a long, wicked-looking blade being slid from one highly-polished boot. He said hurriedly, ‘Now look, mister – there ain’t no need for that.’
‘Whether there is or not will depend on how fast you answer my questions. A lady was abducted tonight. A lady – do you understand? If you had anything to do with that and harm comes to her, I’ll see you hanged. So tell me what you know and make it quick.’
‘I don’t know nothing about no abduction, mister. Honest, I don’t. I bin following you a bit like Madam asked – don’t mind admitting that. But --’
‘And seen me doing what?’
‘Coming and going from your ken in Cork Street and that fancy gaming club off St. James’.’
‘What else?’ Seeing in Randall’s face that there was something else but that he was reluctant to reveal it, Sebastian leaned a little more heavily on the man’s marital equipment and simultaneously brought the knife-point to within an inch of his throat. ‘What else?’
‘Couple of times I seen you riding in the park with a young gentry-mort. And – and after that, Madam set me to watching her instead. Then tonight I took a note to a ken in Clarges Street. There was an old rattler waiting and Madam said I was to stay till I seen the gentry-mort get in, then come away. So I did.’ He he
sitated again until the knife pricked his skin. ‘The rattler was on the dark side of the street so I could be mistook but I thought – I thought the jarvey might have been Long Jake as sometimes drives Mrs Grendel. And that’s everything – so move your boot, will you?’
‘Presently. Who is Mrs Grendel?
‘Abbess of the nunnery on Mercer Street, near the Garden.’
Bile rose in Sebastian’s throat and for a moment he thought he might actually throw up. Taking an iron grip on every nerve and sinew, he withdrew both the blade and his foot and in a voice like cracking ice, said, ‘Finally. Let’s go.’
Having seen the moment of weakness but knowing better than to remark on it, Adrian suggested that it might perhaps be sensible to wait for the Runners.
‘While Cassandra may be in a bloody brothel? No.’
His lordship sighed. ‘You just want to break heads personally.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Striding towards the door, Sebastian said, ‘Andrews – if and when the Runners turn up, insist one of them waits here. It’s clear that Lady Silvarez is involved in tonight’s abduction – probably solely responsible for it – and if his lordship and I don’t catch up with her, she’s got to come home some time.’
And then he was gone, Lord Sarre hard on his heels.
* * *
An hour or so earlier, Cassie had awoken feeling sick and groggy, in a room she didn’t recognise and with no recollection of how she’d got there. Eventually, as her mind became clearer, she remembered the note from Olivia and an ancient hackney carriage … and finally, the large rough hand that had pressed a damp, pungent cloth over her nose and mouth. Her breathing began to accelerate as she absorbed three crucial facts. This wasn’t Amberley House; there was no sign of Olivia; and she herself had walked straight into somebody’s trap. As to who that somebody was … well, there was really only one possible answer.
She swung her feet to the floor and had to grab the bedpost for balance as a wave of dizziness washed over her; then she ploughed an erratic course to the door. It was locked. Something at the back of her brain had told her it would be but still she couldn’t help tugging at it. Panic crept several steps closer, urging her to beat her hands against the panels and shout for help; she took a moment to push it back, leaning her brow against the wood. Panic wasn’t going to help and it would be stupid to summon someone from the other side of that door when she had no idea who that someone might be. Better to let them believe she was still unconscious and give herself time to think.
From somewhere below, she could hear raucous male voices and screeches of female laughter. What on earth was this place?
Turning, she examined the room. There was a lot of balding red velvet and far too many mirrors. Her reflection looked back at her from all directions; small, pale and very frightened. Aside from the fact that they existed, Cassie knew nothing about bawdy-houses but instinct told her that she was in one now.
On the opposite wall, curtains were closed over a small window. She lurched towards it, knowing it was probably useless to hope but unable not to. Dragging the curtains back, she looked out into blackness from what seemed to be the third floor. The window itself proved to be jammed shut but she fought with it for a time anyway before coming to the conclusion that, if there was help to be had from outside, she’d wouldn’t get it without first smashing the glass … and letting her captors know that she was awake.
Defeated, she sat down on the edge of the bed and forced her brain to work logically. The note had not been from Olivia. Her sister had never been in any trouble and was, presumably, safe in bed at home. And the hired carriage she’d stepped into had been waiting for her. No matter what destination she’d given the driver she would still have ended up here – wherever here was.
All right, she thought, forcing herself to breathe evenly. No one knows where I am except the woman who arranged for me to be abducted. That’s not good. I don’t know how long I’ve been here so I’ve no idea how soon I’ll be missed. If I’m lucky, Althea and Jack became concerned when I just vanished. Perhaps Papa is already looking for me. But where will he start? With the servants at Linton House? Yes. They must have heard me direct the jarvey to Hanover Square – only of course I never got there. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut. Crying wasn’t going to help. Please, please God – let Papa have gone to Sebastian. He’ll know where to find the Silvarez woman and she’s the best chance they’ve got of rescuing me before things get any worse. Something half-way between a laugh and a sob shook her. Can things get any worse? Locked up somewhere I don’t know and probably at the mercy of the Evil Witch who I’m beginning to think is actually quite mad? But I can’t just sit here like a lamb awaiting slaughter. Papa told Sebastian I was a Valkyrie so I ought to try thinking like one.
It had taken some searching to find a book in the library that explained about Valkyries collecting fallen heroes from the battle-field and carrying them off to Valhalla – which was apparently the Viking equivalent of heaven but was less about harps and angels and more like Roman orgies. Still, Cassie had liked the sound of the fearless shield-maidens. She just didn’t feel very much like one at the moment.
Sooner or later, someone is going to come through that door. And when they do, I’ll need a weapon. She looked around without much hope until finally the chipped ewer on the wash-stand caught her eye. I suppose that will have to do. It won’t kill anybody but it might serve to discourage them. Oh Sebastian. Please come and find me. This is … well, it’s really quite frightening not knowing what will happen next.
What happened next was that she heard a key being inserted into the lock. Flying across the room, she seized the water jug to stand poised and ready. The door opened, a woman came in and, without waiting to find out who it was, Cassie smashed the ewer hard against a white-blonde head. The woman dropped to her knees, howling and Cassie wasted no time in making a dash for freedom. Unfortunately, she collided in the doorway with an extremely fat woman who simply used her bulk to push her gently back inside the room.
‘The little bitch hit me!’ Clutching her head, Miranda hauled herself up into a chair. Then, looking down at her fingers, ‘I’m bleeding!’
‘So you are.’ The newcomer shut the door and leaned against it. ‘Can’t blame the girl for that. I reckon if somebody had snatched you away, you’d have done worse.’ And to Cassie, ‘Sit down, dearie. I’m sorry about the oil of vitriol. Jake did it for the best but he knows better now. Meantime, you won’t be here long and nobody’s going to hurt you.’
Hoping beyond hope that, if she wasn’t actually an ally, the fat lady might at least be sympathetic, Cassie said unevenly, ‘If that’s so, why am I here at all?’
‘That’s for her to explain. I’ve just been paid for the room and the use of my driver.’
‘And privacy, Mrs Grendel.’ Holding a lace-edged handkerchief to her temple, Miranda suddenly seemed strangely calm. ‘I paid for privacy. So go away.’
‘I’m going. But you remember my terms. The young lady’s to be returned home, safe and sound. If you hurt her, don’t count on me keeping quiet when folks come asking. And don’t even think of letting any of my customers get a glimpse of her. There’s not one of ’em would believe she’s here willingly – and I’m not having Runners at the door on account of you.’ Mrs Grendel turned towards the door and then, looking back at Cassie, said bluntly, ‘This ain’t a place you want to be seen, Miss – so stay here till somebody comes to show you the way out.’
Watching hope disappear and hearing the key turn in the lock, Cassie sat down on the edge of the bed and folded her hands in her lap to hide the fact that they weren’t steady. Then she looked Miranda in the eye and said, ‘I’ve no idea who you are, Madam but --’
‘Liar. We met at Vauxhall. But you knew who I was before that.’
‘I do recall you attempting to foist your acquaintance on Lady Elinor and myself at Vauxhall – but why you should think I already knew you --’
‘It was wr
itten all over your face, silly girl. And you were the woman with Sebastian Audley at Bedford House, weren’t you?’
‘Me?’ Cassie’s nerves snarled but she managed a tiny, incredulous laugh. ‘Hardly.’
‘Oh, I’ve been told no one would believe it of a milk-and-water Miss like you – that you’ve got them all nicely fooled. But I know the truth.’ Miranda’s teeth gleamed in a savage smile. ‘I know you were in the library that night at Cavendish House, as well. I heard what you said about it.’
Cassie couldn’t remember what she’d said; neither could she spare the additional concentration it would take to try. She said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about – and suspect that you don’t, either.’
‘Keep pretending if it makes you feel better. It won’t help.’ Miranda paused and then, her tone gathering a note of jeering spite, ‘Where were you hiding? Did you watch him kissing me and wish it was you? Yes. Of course you did. He makes you hot for him, doesn’t he?’
Oh God, thought Cassie despairingly. She thinks there’s something between Sebastian and me … but I can’t let her know she’s right or this will get much, much worse.
Hoping that, for once in her life, she could lie convincingly, she said, ‘This is all nonsense. Unless you have anything sensible to say, I’d like to leave.’
‘I daresay. But I’m not finished with you yet. Indeed, I’ve barely started.’
‘Then perhaps you could get on with it. So far as I can see, you’ve had me drugged and dragged here against my will purely to talk about Sebastian Audley. Why?’
‘I wanted to find out what he sees in an ordinary little thing like you.’
‘What makes you think he sees anything?’
