Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  “A bargaining chip,” he whispered close to her ear, making her want to shudder.

  “Still gambling?” she quipped.

  “Yes, but I’m playing for higher stakes now. And I intend to win.” He circled behind her, keeping her off-guard.

  “How so?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but talking helped her sort through the mess she’d gotten herself in.

  “James Crandall, pardon me, I meant Jim Ferguson, is about to accomplish something that he does not deserve to. Tell me, my love, what do you know of his history? Do you know he had to change his name to escape going to prison?”

  Ella said nothing but couldn’t quite control a surprised gasp.

  “It’s true. You see Crandall, his real name, led a particularly nasty strike a few years back. Men were hurt, the factory forced to close, and government troops fired on by the workers.”

  She’d heard this story. She sent a mental thank you to Lady Bedham and her penchant for gossip. Unfortunately, the old dragon either didn’t know or withheld Jim’s connection. “Would we be talking about your family’s factory, my lord? If so, I’ve heard the story.”

  “From Crandall?”

  “No, but my source suggested that the factory owner was particularly ruthless and cruel to the workers, resulting in injuries.”

  “Nothing they didn’t deserve,” Lord Spencer said, and Ella’s conversation with Jim from the other night came back to her. He’d seen sabotage before, he said. Could Spencer’s family have sabotaged their own workers and factory to place the blame on the employees? Thus, removing any responsibility over labor practices from themselves? Until the truth was known, the government would move to protect the rights of the owner.

  Lord Spencer squatted in front of her now where he rested his hands on her legs and deliberately made eye contact. “But Crandall did the unthinkable,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “What would that be, my lord?” What was more unthinkable than violating the trust of your employees and allowing good men to be hurt?

  “He murdered his own parents. Unintentionally, I suppose, but murdered them nonetheless.”

  She didn’t bother to keep the anger off her face or from her voice now. “You lie.”

  “Do I? I think you know The Angry Adder burned. I followed you when you were snooping around in London that day.” Lord Spencer’s hands squeezed her thighs, moving his fingers slowly up her legs. “I think you may also know that Crandall changed his name. Did you wonder why?”

  “It’s none of my business, my lord.” She jerked trying to dislodge his wandering hands, but he merely laughed and continued touching her.

  “He set the fire that killed his parents, hoping to put the blame on my family, but all his scheming didn’t pay off. He was forced to hide. Imagine my surprise, when he resurfaced to work with your esteemed brother-in-law.”

  “Why not just call the law on him if you can prove these allegations?”

  “I saw my opportunity to have true revenge, Lady Ella. I could ruin his name, again, destroy his project, and steal his love.” He leaned close as he spoke, stretching to whisper the last words near her lips. “At first, you made my job so easy by flirting with me in front of him.”

  She wanted to kick herself for every smile she’d ever given this odious man. “So it became a personal grudge that you wanted to settle.”

  “Not entirely personal, but profitable as well.” He straightened and switched his tone to something less insidious, apparently done with playing with her. “I was in a unique position a few months back, Lady Ella. I was approached by certain sources who were aware of my family history and grudge, as you call it, against Crandall. For information about his current project, I would be rewarded generously.”

  “Did you receive this reward?” She dragged in a deeper breath when he paced away from her.

  “Some of it,” he answered, “but my employers are demanding. Only the destruction of the ship will satisfy them now.”

  “And you will, what, sink the ship and escape to…France?” A bold assumption and perhaps a stupid accusation, but she noted his reaction. She’d hit the mark.

  “France is a bit close,” he said after a moment, “but I’ve been promised money and protection. I have only to complete my task. Crandall has proved to be a worthy adversary, so focused, so guarded. I need him distracted and that is where you will assist me.” He stood just behind her again.

  “I will do nothing to help you,” she declared, considering how much she’d like to re-arrange his aristocratic nose given the opportunity.

  “You already have. Your careless walk through the alley gave me everything I wanted. Crandall loves you. If you’re missing, perhaps hurt,” his fingers sunk into her hair, balling a fistful, “he’ll drop everything to search for his lady love.”

  “It won’t work,” she said with more bravado than she felt. “The ship is complete.”

  “I don’t mean to prevent its completion.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Spit and polish. Jim initialed the papers on his clipboard, confirming anything significant on the ship was complete. Only minor prep work and cleaning remained before the launch. Tomorrow the Admiralty arrived to approve the ship and take her on her maiden voyage at four sharp.

  More importantly, he’d see Ella tomorrow. She’d come with Annabelle to the launch and he could no longer hide behind his work. She deserved his attention, but he wanted more than a snatched word. He wanted time to tell her how he felt, to assure her he’d do everything he could to make her happy.

  He walked off the gangplank headed to his office. He’d send more work to Ella via Sam and a message to Edmund, letting him know the ship was complete and on schedule. Perhaps, he’d include a note to Ella. He wanted to send a more personal note, but he’d been unable to compose one despite several efforts.

  He’d started it again in his head when a carriage entered the yard, going fast, putting his nerves on alert. Before it could stop, Edmund leaped from the seat and strode toward him.

  “Is Ella here?” Edmund demanded. Jim noticed Annabelle slipping from the carriage and coming to stand by her husband.

  “No,” Jim said with a rising sense of doom. “She’s supposed to be with you.”

  “We can’t find her,” Annabelle explained, tear tracks visible on her face. “We’ve searched the cottage and grounds, but can’t find her. We hoped she was here.”

  “She’s not.” The sensation rushing through him was like when one swallowed particularly vile alcohol. Numbing, but burning its way through the throat and gut. “Sam,” Jim yelled loud enough for the whole yard to hear. His messenger boy had sharp eyes, especially where Ella was concerned.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Jim,” the boy said, running to them.

  “Have you seen Miss Ella today?”

  “No, sir, exceptin’ this morning.”

  “At the cottage,” Jim supplied.

  “No, sir, she was headed into the short cut.”

  All eyes swung to the boy. “What time?”

  “Maybe ten. I was runnin’ an errand to the sawmill for Mr. McGregor.”

  “Are you sure you haven’t see her since then?”

  The boy shook his head, eyes wide. “Is she…?”

  “She’s missing.” Jim put a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder.

  “Can I help look for her? She’s been good to me and I…” He broke off, pinching his lips together. “She’s been nice to me is all.”

  “Go double-check with Mr. McGregor about the time and report back to me.” The boy ran off and Jim turned back to Edmund. “How the hell did you lose her?”

  “Maybe if you’d come to see her as you ought to have, this wouldn’t have happened,” Edmund shot back.

  The burning sensation roared back up his throat, not numbing, but scorching now. This was his fault. He’d ignored her out of his own fears.

  “Fighting won’t find her. Let’s think. Where could she be?” Annabelle tried t
o reason with them.

  “Wherever Spencer has put her,” Jim declared, no doubt in his mind that she’d been taken.

  “Lord Spencer?” Annabelle asked. “Oh, God, you don’t think he has her?” Both men nodded. “After what you told me about him?” she said to her husband. At least Edmund had filled his wife in on their suspicions. He wished he’d told Ella so she’d have understood the necessity for her confinement.

  “It’s the obvious answer,” Jim confirmed. “I’ll pull men off their shifts to search the buildings and houses along the alley, but I doubt we’ll find anything. If he’s smart at all, he’ll move her out of the immediate vicinity. Bloody hell!” Jim swore when another carriage pulled into the yard. “Who’s that?” Two admirals in their distinctive tri-corner hats alighted from the carriage. “They’re a day early. You deal with them,” he said to Edmund, turning to yell for his shift boss to give new orders.

  Jim kept busy, doing what he did, giving orders and making plans. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Edmund speak with Admirals Huntley and Lawson. He couldn’t think about their conversation now. He had to find Ella and soon. Spencer was capable of atrocities and he’d already hurt Ella once in her own brother’s home. God only knew what he’d do to her in this situation.

  “We have another problem.” Edmund caught him between tasks.

  “Take care of it,” he barked.

  “I can’t. They,” he gestured to the admirals who were chatting with a strained-looking Annabelle, “have questions about your past.”

  “Did you tell them we have a more important problem here?” He didn’t want to expend one ounce of energy on anything but the search for Ella.

  “They want answers and they’re used to getting them,” Edmund answered. “You and I both know there’s no cause for concern over your past, but you need to talk with them.”

  “Fine. I’ll give them answers.” Jim walked to the admirals and offered a handshake. “Admiral Huntley, Admiral Lawson, I understand there’s a problem.”

  “An accusation,” Admiral Lawson responded with a nervous glance for his superior.

  “About me?” Jim prompted, in no mood to take the long route.

  “Yes, it’s come to our attention that you may have been involved in an incident—”

  “I don’t have time for a formal review.” Jim cut off Admiral Lawson’s speech. “Yes, I led a strike in London three years ago. Yes, Royal Guardsmen were injured in the breaking of that strike. There’s a hell of a lot more to the story, but I’m not explaining my past now. You do what you need to do.”

  He left them staring after him, but he couldn’t fix that now. Later, if they gave him a chance to explain, he might be able to clear his name. For now, he didn’t give a damn. Ella, the woman he loved, but hadn’t spoken to in days, had been kidnapped by Spencer, the last man in the world he trusted to be decent.

  Entering his office, he opened his bottom desk drawer and reached for the loaded gun stored there. He tucked it in his waistband and returned to the yard to lead one of the search parties.

  ****

  Ella shook herself awake despite the soreness in her body and dull throbbing in her head. Darkness surrounded her along with the damp smell of water and old wood. She was lying on a narrow bunk of some kind with her hands bound behind her.

  Her cape was missing, and the faint odor of something sweet came from a handkerchief near her face. She breathed it in trying to recognize the smell and a wave of dizziness overtook her. Memories of Lord Spencer and her abduction flooded back. The little room, hands grabbing at her, the accusations about Jim. All of that led her here, but where was she?

  When the dizziness subsided, she rolled to a seated position, knocking her head against the low ceiling of the dark room. Saying a curse word she wasn’t supposed to know, she put her feet on the floor. It shifted unexpectedly beneath her weight so she leaned against the bunk to take stock of her surroundings.

  A circle, lighter than the rest of the wall, got her attention. Upon closer study, she realized it was a porthole. What was she doing on a boat? She sifted through her memory. Lord Spencer’s words about Jim followed by the sweet smell and nothing. They’d given her something to knock her unconscious and brought her here so she couldn’t warn Jim.

  A footstep overhead arrested her movement. A guard perhaps. Not wanting anyone to realize she was awake, she settled against the bunk, focusing on the straps that bound her arms. Freeing herself became her only priority, she couldn’t think about Jim or The Iron Lady or Spencer until she was free to take action.

  Thank heavens for thin, flexible wrists, she decided, as she twisted her hands and fingers to feel the knots. With a little effort, she could loosen them enough to slide them over her hands. She shivered, the damp coldness sinking through her, as she worked, but she focused on the task.

  The darkness outside the porthole suggested it was very late. She would have been missed, but who would know where to look for her or even where to start? She’d run off like a child, took an unnecessary risk to see Jim, and paid the price for her actions. She shut out the thought of how Jim and her sister must feel now. They’d be frantically searching for her with no sense of where she could be.

  With chattering teeth, she continued to work on the cords, loosen and tug, loosen and tug, until she felt one give way. She wanted to cheer in victory when she yanked the straps free, but silence was safety. Not wishing to rock the boat and call attention to herself, she took one cautious step after the other to the porthole, inching her way closer to the circle of light.

  In seven slow steps, she reached it, but had to remove a layer of grim before seeing out. The window was just above water level and the wind stirred the waves enough to splash against the glass. Cold water, cold waves, but the wood of a dock was visible if she looked up so she couldn’t be far from land.

  A thump and men’s laughter overhead froze her in place. She listened in silence to the breaking of a bottle and more laughter. At least two guards, probably the same ones who captured her in the alley. She strained but didn’t hear the more educated tones of Lord Spencer.

  Intoxicated guards could make it possible for her to escape undetected. Getting caught by them or trapped in this tiny room was unthinkable. With redoubled determination, she unlatched the porthole. Cautiously, she swung the window open. No squeak alerted her captors, but she still had to get out the narrow opening. And out meant into freezing water. She touched the waves and shivered more deeply.

  More laughter from on deck and the splash of a bottle hitting the water not far from her window motivated her. She unfastened the tight bodice of her gown and unlaced the skirt. Both items would make her sink like a stone in the water. She took the watch Jim gave her from the slit in her bodice. The water might ruin the mechanism, but it would still be beautiful. And she wasn’t parting with his gift. It meant too much to her.

  Next, she stripped down to her chemise and drawers. The white cotton wouldn’t do anything to keep her warm, but she could swim in them and get through the porthole without the encumbrance of her skirt and petticoats.

  Slowly, she lifted herself from the floor and poked her head out into the frigid night air. She twisted, but could only see the deck rail above her. Thank heavens no guards’ faces leered down. Lowering herself into the water, she bit her lip to keep from gasping as the cold water enveloped her body. Her legs cleared the window and she let her body sink through the waves until only her head was above the water.

  She treaded water for a moment to get her bearings. The boat was moored to a long dock. If she got under the dock’s wood planking, she could swim to shore and exit the water without anyone on the boat’s deck seeing her. Without a splash, she moved through the water, ducking under the dock and following it to land. In a few minutes, she pulled herself onto the rocky shore, cutting her bare feet and scraping her knees on the stones. Cold and fear paralyzed her. She’d gotten free, but to face what? She was wet through and didn’t know he
r location, didn’t know if Jim was safe.

  Did he know who kidnapped her? It had to be early on the morning of the launch. Did he know the danger he and the others were in? Lord Spencer’s words about preventing the launch returned to her. The only way to prevent the launch now was to destroy the ship, to blow it up. The incendiary device used a few weeks ago came to mind. Spencer meant to blow The Iron Lady up during its maiden voyage this afternoon.

  Her thoughts and a wild, drunken shout from the boat where she’d been held put her in motion. She found a path off the beach onto a road that ran on high ground above a cliff face. Pausing to catch her breath after the climb, she recognized the stretch of road. Despite the exertion of swimming and running, deep shivers wracked her body. She rubbed her damp arms with her hands, trying to force warmth into her limbs while she waited for her mind to remember when she’d been here before.

  She listened for pursuers, but no sounds came from the boat or beach below. She breathed in, calming herself, controlling her shivers, and challenging her mind to sort through the direction. She cursed her lack of an internal compass. More than making it home from a stroll in the woods depended on her figuring out her location and getting back to Bristol. Lives depended on it. Jim’s life.

  A light flashed to her left far out in the channel. The lighthouse! Bristol was inland from that. Lundy Island Light would guide more than ships home tonight, she thought. Turning to the right, she ran along the road toward Bristol. The exercise pumped blood through her veins, fighting against the chill.

  Stars winked overhead and a breeze rushed past her, but she didn’t stop running. She was racing ahead of her fears and the cold night air. If she paused, both would pounce on her like a cat on a mouse. A mile disappeared under her aching feet, another slipped away and another. Her chest felt tight as she sucked in rapid breaths to fuel her body.

  Finally too breathless for another step, she stopped in the middle of the deserted road, doubling over as she drew in jagged gulps of icy air. One minute she told herself, no longer before she ran again. As she reached forty seconds, she forced herself to straighten. Puffing out white wisps, she noticed a cottage near the road with a broken down wagon in the yard.