“What?” Trent’s voice cut the air like glass. “You lied to me?”
“He said you were looking for him for running off with yer wife. Only I knowed that couldn’t be true if the lass that were with you was yer wife.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” Trent suppressed the urge to throttle the older man. If he’d known Carrington were anywhere near the newspaper offices he’d not have left Ophelia within a mile of them. “You could plainly see that she was my wife.”
“How was I to know you weren’t lyin’?” the grocer said with a shrug. “And Carrington did give me some coin.”
Trent bit back a curse and pulled a handful of coins from his purse. “Now, what do you know? About the man next door. Everything.”
The man pocketed the coins before admitting, “That’s all I know. Though I did hear some shouting over there a bit ago. Quiet now though.”
Before Trent could demand his coin back, Freddy pulled him aside. “Calm down. I have an idea.”
To the greengrocer, he said sharply, “You strike me as a man who doesn’t miss much. Do you know if there is another key to Carrington’s place next door? Perhaps he gave you one for safekeeping or maybe hides one somewhere, nearby?”
When the man looked as if he were about to ask for more money, Trent bared his teeth. And looking slightly taken aback, Mr. Fellows nodded. “He gave me this when he first moved in. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d forgot all about it.”
He proffered a large ring of keys with the right one separated out.
Not bothering to take it off the ring, Trent turned to Freddy. Reaching into his greatcoat, he handed his friend one dueling pistol and then pulled out another for himself.
As they crossed to the door of the newspaper office, he said in a low voice, “As soon as the lock is opened, we’ll go in on the count of three.”
* * *
As soon as the door shut behind her, Ophelia hurried over to where Maggie lay still on the lumpy mattress. Falling to her knees, she reached down to feel her friend’s neck for a pulse and almost wept with relief when she found one. It was weak, but it was there.
“Maggie, my dear friend, what’s happened to you?” she said in a low voice as she examined the other woman’s body for injuries. It was on her head that she found the likely cause of her unconsciousness. A large lump was visible on the back of her head.
Ophelia wondered if it had happened before she was taken into this shabby little room, or perhaps during an attempt at escape. There was no way of knowing.
All she was sure of now was that Edwin was a monster and was likely responsible for the disappearances of three more women in addition to Maggie. Why hadn’t she insisted on going with Trent? Together they would have been able to extricate themselves from Edwin’s clutches. But alone, with an injured Maggie to protect, she had only her wits to use against him.
But first, she needed to see about Maggie.
Scanning the room, she saw that on the dresser there was a pitcher of water along with a glass. Perhaps some water would revive her friend. At the very least she could dampen her handkerchief and wipe down the poor girl’s face.
Soon she’d poured a small glass and placed the damp cloth on Maggie’s head. But though she swallowed a bit of the water, she didn’t awaken. It was perhaps for the best, Ophelia thought grimly. She certainly wasn’t enjoying her time here in captivity. Let Maggie remain oblivious while she could.
Standing, she raised the shade of the window and found it faced the street below. She wondered if it would do any good to try to catch the attention of someone down there. Edwin would likely fob off anyone who came in response with some nonsense story about a mad sister or the like. He was familiar enough with the way everyday people responded to the suggestion of madness. They steered as far away as they could.
As if it were catching.
Still, she scanned the street below to see if anyone was looking in their direction. But all she saw was a lad holding the reins of a red-and-blue-trimmed curricle. Which looked quite familiar.
Gasping, she covered her mouth with her hand. Trent had returned for her. But her relief was coupled with the fear of what Edwin might do to her husband when he came looking for her. Because if she knew anything about Trent it was that he’d never take no for an answer.
Trent had fought against the French for years. He was skilled at strategy and combat in a way that Edwin couldn’t possibly understand. He’d likely dismiss her husband as a soft nobleman with more familiarity with the cut of his coat than how to defend himself against thugs.
But she’d seen him still sweaty from swordplay, and had noted that instead of being winded he was invigorated. He could hold his own against someone of Edwin’s ilk. And he’d know how to handle the brute force of Edwin’s henchmen as well.
And she would do her own part, by letting him know that she and Maggie were upstairs, and alive.
Fortunately, Maggie’s captors hadn’t bothered to remove everything from her prison that might be used as a weapon. Or a means to signal for help.
There before the hearth were two andirons, perhaps so familiar they’d not even registered with the kidnappers. Ophelia didn’t want to consider what it meant about Maggie’s likely state of unconsciousness for the duration of her captivity that she hadn’t tried to use them herself. Or maybe she had and her current injury was the result.
Clenching her teeth to suppress her anger, she slowly hoisted one of the andirons as far up as she could and dropped it on the bare floor just outside the edge of the carpet. Then, not content with that one loud sound, she did it again. And again. Until her arms were weak with fatigue.
If nothing else, she thought with a determined grin, at least Edwin’s head would ache worse now.
* * *
“What the devil is this?” Edwin Carrington cried out as Trent and Freddy burst into his office with pistols drawn. “I have a good mind to call the watch on both of you. You have no right to come in here like this.”
“It’s funny you should talk about rights, Carrington,” Trent said calmly, “when you are even as we speak holding both my wife and her friend Mrs. Margaret Grayson against their will.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Trent,” snapped Carrington, as if he weren’t being held at gunpoint. “I haven’t seen Ophelia since she came here two days ago with you. And as for Maggie—”
“It’s her grace, the Duchess of Trent to you,” Trent spat out. “And don’t try to cozen me with your lies and tales of unrequited love. We both know quite well how you dispose of those ladies who don’t return your twisted affections.”
“If you’re going to speak in riddles,” Carrington said with a shrug, “then you should at the very least allow me to have a drink to go along with it.”
He stood and stepped toward the decanter of brandy on the end of his desk.
But Trent, noting it was made of heavy crystal, shook his head and moved the decanter out of reach. “I don’t think so.”
“A nice try, however,” Freddy said with a nod of encouragement. “But amateurish at best.”
“You’d better sit back down, Carrington, and tell me where you’re keeping my wife and her friend.”
“I don’t know who’s been telling you these tales,” Carrington said, sitting back down, “but they are very much mistaken, I can assure you.”
“Even your own brother?” Trent asked, his pistol never wavering. He knew they’d not gotten a confession from Dr. Hayes yet, but the lie might be enough to make Carrington tell him where Ophelia was. At least that’s what he hoped.
“What has he been saying?” Carrington demanded, going pale. “What’s the high-and-mighty Dr. Hayes been saying to slander me now?”
Trent noticed with pleasure that the newspaperman’s eye was twitching.
“Only that you’ve used him as a means of getting rid of some of your more unsatisfactory lady friends. The ones who don’t return your affection, I mean. What
must it be like to find oneself rejected again and again by the opposite sex? I wonder.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Carrington snapped. “He gets confused. He’s not as young as he used to be, you understand.”
“Oh, I think he was quite lucid about the matter,” Trent said, resting his shoulder against the wall. “He recalled very well the names of the women. As well as how he wrote out writs declaring them to be insane. It was really quite clever of you to get rid of them in that way. I must say. Very clever indeed.”
“Don’t patronize me, you ass,” Carrington snarled. “You think it was easy for me to persuade him to do that? My whole life I’d had to beg for crumbs from him. While he grew richer and richer off the monies he collected from the families of those miserable madmen he treats. It’s only right that I get something back from him. Especially when he hasn’t given a penny to our poor mother.”
“Ah, sibling affection,” Freddy said dryly. “It fair brings a tear to my eye.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve done with Maggie Grayson,” Trent said grimly. “It was obvious to me the other day that you held her in some affection, though I mistakenly thought you were thinking only of doing away with her husband. I might have known you’d choose to punish the woman who rejected you, too. Can’t let her get away with that, can you?”
Even Trent’s quick reflexes were no match for the anger of a madman.
And as if he were an arrow let loose from a bowstring, Carrington leaped forward to clutch Trent by the cravat with one hand. In his other, he had a knife, which Trent felt pressed hard against his neck.
“Put the pistol down,” Carrington said coldly, and pressed the knife harder. Carefully Trent lowered the gun to the surface of the desk. It would do Ophelia no good if he got himself killed by this madman before he was able to find her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Freddy lift his own pistol to point directly at Carrington’s head. Catching his friend’s gaze, he gave a subtle shake of his head. Even so, Freddy gave Carrington a hard look before he lowered his weapon and placed it next to Trent’s.
“A wise choice, Lord Frederick,” Carrington said smugly. “If you kill me you’ll never know where Ophelia and Maggie are, will you? Though I fear they’ll both be dead before you get to them.”
“Just tell us where they are, Carrington,” Trent snarled, “and we’ll let you go without any sort of retribution.”
“I fear you’ve got it backward, your grace,” Carrington said silkily, picking up and pocketing Freddy’s pistol and then taking Trent’s in his free hand and training it at Freddy. “I have all the weapons here.”
“Just go,” Freddy bit out. “You can’t possibly think you can get away with kidnapping a duke and a duchess.”
“Why shouldn’t I get away with it?” Carrington said scornfully, moving from behind the desk so that he could more easily train the pistol on them both. “I’ve made four women disappear without a trace And I was able to shoot George Grayson right beneath the nose of your cronies in the Lords of Anarchy. Once I’m finished with you lot, Maggie and I are leaving for France. So, there won’t be any question of there being consequences for anything I’ve done.”
“You’re madder than anyone your brother has deemed insane, Carrington,” Trent said through clenched teeth. “If you do not let me go find my wife right now, then I guarantee you’ll face the consequences of all your crimes. It’s now or never.”
Just then, a loud crash sounded from above them. And in the split second it took for Carrington to react, Trent twisted out of his grasp, kicked the pistol out of his hand, and twisted the other man’s wrist until he dropped the knife.
Quickly, Freddy scrabbled to pick up the knife and the pistol.
“Where are they, you bastard?” Trent demanded as he shoved Carrington’s elbow behind his back.
“You think you’re so smart, Trent.” The editor sneered. “Let’s see if you and your noble friend can figure it out.”
More than anything in the world, Trent wanted to wipe that smirk off the kidnapper’s face, but now was not the time to give in to his brute desires. He needed to go find out what that crash upstairs had been. Ophelia might be in trouble.
Pressing the editor’s face down onto the desk, he turned to Freddy and let his friend grab Carrington by the elbows. “Tie him up. I’m going to find Ophelia.”
Trusting Freddy to take care of Carrington, Trent scanned the dark room until finally he saw the outline of a door in the rear wall. He pushed through it and was relieved to see a set of stairs leading upward.
Taking them two at a time, he raced toward where the loud crashes continued to sound. Until he stopped before a closed door on the second landing. For a moment the noise stopped. And not waiting to see if it would begin again, Trent threw himself against the door. It was three times before it gave, but when he fell into the room it was to see Ophelia hoisting an enormous andiron over her head.
On seeing him, however, she gave a shout of joy, and dropped the heavy fireplace ornament to the floor, which shook with the impact.
“I’ve never been happier to see anyone in all my life,” she shouted as she threw her arms around his neck.
“What happened?” he demanded. “I suppose it was Carrington who brought you here?”
“Him and his two henchmen,” she said against his shoulder. “Only look, Trent, Maggie is here, and she’s not well.”
Pulling away from him, she led him over to where Maggie lay still on a dirty mattress. But as Ophelia went to her knees beside her friend, Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open.
“Maggie, dear,” Ophelia said, smoothing a hand over the other woman’s cheek. “It’s Ophelia, I’m here.”
“I know,” Maggie said without opening her eyes. “You were making an awful enough racket to wake the dead.”
“She was quite possibly saving your life, my dear Mrs. Grayson,” said Freddy from the doorway where he dragged Edwin—his hands tied behind him with what looked like his own cravat—forward. Just for good measure, Freddy also held a dueling pistol on the other man. “Now, I don’t know if the three of you are overly attached to this awful place. But I for one should very much like to get rid of this miscreant and go home.”
Looking up at Trent, who had still not let her go, Ophelia smiled at Freddy. “I think that is an excellent idea.”
“Freddy,” Trent said to his friend, “will you please take Carrington to the nearest magistrate while Ophelia and I see that Mrs. Grayson is transported to our home so we can get her some proper treatment?”
“Perfectly fine by me,” Freddy said grimly. “Come along, Carrington, I find myself quite hungry and wishing for my supper.”
Before his friend could get far, however, Trent called after him. “By the way, old fellow. Thanks for your help. I could have done it alone, but not without a couple of nasty knife wounds, I fear.”
Over his shoulder, his friend grinned. “What are friends for?”
With his captive protesting all the way, Freddy led Carrington away.
Pulling her away from where her friend lay on the floor, Trent held Ophelia against him, unable to let her go as all the things that might have happened if he hadn’t returned to find her went through his mind.
“My God, he might have killed you, Ophelia,” he breathed against her hair. “Or worse. He’s kept her here for days, likely without food or water. How much worse would he have treated you when this is what he did to the woman he loved!”
“But you came back,” she assured him, stroking a comforting hand over his back. “You came back and you are here now and we are both fine. And so is Maggie.”
Quickly she explained to him how as soon as he’d left she’d begun searching Maggie’s desk and then had been interrupted by Carrington. “He was raving like a madman, Trent. You should have heard him. None of it made sense.”
“I should be horsewhipped for leaving you here,” Trent said, his mouth tight.
If things had gone a different way he might now be cradling her broken body instead of her very live one. “I should have known there was some trick. I might have lost you.”
“But you didn’t,” she assured him. “And when I saw that Maggie was here and alive, I was as relieved as I could be because I knew you would come back. Then I saw your curricle out the window and decided to attract your attention since you had to be downstairs. Though I wasn’t sure Edwin was still there. But I used the andirons to make as much noise as I possibly could. And they did the trick.”
Laughing, Trent pulled her against him again. “I love you, you stubborn, intrepid girl. I love you to distraction.”
“You do?” she asked in a soft voice. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say it. For I very much fear I’ve been falling in love with you for weeks now.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re married,” Trent growled in her ear. “Because there are some very naughty ways I’d like to show you my love just as soon as we get back home.”
“An excellent idea,” Ophelia said, kissing him quite thoroughly. “Now, you’d best go get help so that we can set that plan in motion.”
“Your wish is my command, your grace,” Trent said, bowing low over her hand before he disappeared down the stairs.
“He’s a lovely man, your husband,” Maggie said weakly, surprising Ophelia from her besotted staring after Trent.
“Maggie!” she gasped, rushing over to her friend’s side. “I hope you didn’t hear all of that!”
“Enough,” Maggie said with a grin. “But your secret is safe with me. After all, you’re married so there’s no shame in it.”
“I was so afraid I’d never see you again,” Ophelia told her friend. “Thank goodness we found you before Edwin could do his worst.”
“I’m not really sure what he intended,” Maggie said, frowning as she struggled to sit up. “All I know is that he wanted to keep me away from George. Because he saw him as a rival of some sort.”
“Do you love him?” Ophelia asked softly. “George, I mean?”
“Of course I do, my dear,” Maggie said with a smile. “Just because we fight does not mean that we don’t love each other.”
Good Dukes Wear Black Page 21
