by Reid, Stacy
Simon nodded and held out a piece of paper he had clutched in his palm. “This is the address of his London townhouse. It is on the very edge of Mayfair.”
She plucked it from his grasp. “Thank you.”
“I believe he is in residence. Do you wish for me to accompany you?”
“No. Please guide your efforts elsewhere. It would be a waste of effort to direct our thoughts to the same avenue. Please…do all that you can. There is a possibility he was not taken by Lord James. Maybe…just maybe he is sleeping somewhere, and we will find him soon.”
Simon descended the last step, cupped her cheeks, and wiped at the tears she’d not realized were falling. “We’ll find him,” he promised gruffly.
“I know,” she whispered and pressed a quick kiss on his cheek before fleeing his embrace into the night and the waiting carriage. The note was given to the coachman, who’d equipped the carriage with four of their finest and fastest bays. Georgiana settled herself against the squabs, lacing her fingers together to still their trembling. Now that she was alone, it was easy for the sobs to tear from her throat. Was he hurt and afraid? He would be cold and hungry. Dear lord, please protect him and hold him safe in your arms.
It was a relief when the carriage slowed to a stop a few hours later. Escaping the confinement of the carriage that had hidden her fears and sobs, Georgiana allowed the footman to assist her from the carriage. The looming townhouse was dark, but she squared her shoulders and hurried up the cobbled steps. She grabbed the brass knocker and sounded it several times. A few beats later the door was pulled opened, a short, rotund gentleman peering down at her.
“The Duchess of Hardcastle to see Mr. Tremayne at once.”
The man’s scowl disappeared, and he snapped to attention. He moved back, and she rushed inside, a bit disconcerted at the darkness that greeted her. It seemed as if the household was abed.
“If Her Grace will wait in the parlor, I will get Mr. Tremayne right away.”
She was directed into a drawing room, where a fire burned low in the grate. The butler lit several candelabra before he scurried away. Georgiana paced the room, nervous energy coursing through her body. What if Rhys was unable to help her? What other options were there?
The door was pushed open, and she whirled around.
Dark eyes scanned her body. “What is wrong?”
She tried to speak, but her tongue would not loose. Panic rose and choked her until she could barely breathe. His gaze went flat and hard, and in a few strides, he was before her, standing impossibly close.
“Tell me,” he said softly, resting his hand against her shoulder.
She didn’t even think. Georgiana crumpled into the shelter of his arms, sick with relief that he was there. “My…s-son has been taken.” A shiver seized her, and she trembled violently. Desperate to chase away the fear, she breathed him in deep. “I need…I need your help, please.” A sob tore from her.
His arm slipped beneath her shoulders, and he murmured words that took precious seconds to penetrate her fear. “Whatever you need, I’ll provide.”
He spoke with such absolute assurance her shoulders relaxed. She felt warmth rush through her body. She gave another sob, pressing her face hard against his chest, reassured by the strength and power within him. It appalled her he was the one she was unravelling around, but Georgiana couldn’t control the pain and fear tearing though her heart. Strong arms lifted her, and she shivered uncontrollably as he carried her across the room and placed her on the sofa.
He bent low and lightly kissed her nose, her eyelids salty with tears, and her breath hitched at the intimate, soothing caress.
Whatever you need, I’ll provide.
Some of her tension drained away at that comforting assurance given so promptly, but not all of it. Dipping into her reticule, her trembling fingers held forth a miniature. “Here,” she said through lips that barely moved. “This is my son. He’s gone.”
“Gone?”
The rasping words tore from her throat, “No…he was taken. Kidnapped from Meadowbrook Park. He is all I have…he is my world. Please…”
“Tell me everything.”
As quickly as possible, she recounted all from the second she realized her son was missing. Rhys listened keenly, without interruption. He waited until she’d finished before he spoke. “Lord James, he’s the man your brother asked me for information on earlier? Nicolas’s uncle?”
“Yes. Simon…Simon believes the enormous debt would perhaps lead Lord James to act with greed and cruelty.” She wetted her dry lips. “But perhaps…perhaps he is not the one who took my Nicolas.” She despised the pleading note in her voice, but she couldn’t bear the idea of her son in the clutches of a man who intended to take his life. “Lord James’s estate is in Cornwall, and his townhouse is here, only a few minutes away. Should we visit him—”
“No.”
She stiffened, and he placed a finger under her chin and lifted.
“You came to me because you trusted that I could locate your son.”
“Yes.”
“If Lord James took him, he would not have done it himself. He would have hired those who are soulless to see the job done.”
A harsh whimper tore from her.
“Shh,” he soothed, pulling her even closer. “I’ll find him. I’ll leave no stone unturned.”
“And if you cannot?” she whispered, driving to the heart of her terror. “What if no one can?”
“There is no information brokered I cannot unearth. If Lord James paid criminals in the underworld, I’ll soon have all information surrounding any deals made. Their names, what they were paid, places and times. Please return to your home.”
“I’ll come with you, I cannot wait idly by for news. My Nicolas…” Her words broke as a surge of fear tore through her. Please God, I can’t lose him.
“No. Travel back to Meadowbrook Park. Rouse the household. Prepare his favorite dish, and have tea and biscuits ready. Be composed so that he will not be frightened.”
“I cannot take comfort in your words.”
He cupped her cheeks and tilted her face to his. “I don’t suffer from moral scruples, duchess. I will employ all necessary means to find your son…for you.”
His words implied that when he did, he would exact a promise from her. Georgiana’s throat went dry. “And what would you need in return?” For she was willing to bargain anything for the safe return of her boy to her arms.
“Nothing,” he said.
“You deflect,” she murmured, searching his face intently. “There is always a price, and I am willing to pay anything for my boy’s safe return to my arms.”
“Wipe the worry from your eyes, duchess. I’ll only ask for a simple acknowledgment of someone dear to me.”
His lips spoke words that filled her with relief, but his eyes lied. He would own her, and she feared it wasn’t a simple matter of an acknowledgment anymore. Instinctively, she knew he wanted her body and her soul if he could claim them. He was the devil. He waited, with seemly patience, but a dangerous predatory charge emanated from him, one that petrified and enticed in equal measure.
“Yes,” she said, understanding as a woman, she was acceding much more to this man.
His gaze remained inscrutable, but she could sense the savage satisfaction emanating from him.
“Tell me, please, where will you start? Where will you look that my brother and his connection and Bow Street would not have considered?”
“We have to go back to the beginning.”
“I already told you everything.”
“We must think about the first missing person on your estate. There is a connection,” he said, frowning, his gaze turning inward.
“What…” Knowledge clicked. “Nicolas’s first nursemaid,” she said hoarsely. “Jane Walker. You believe she has something to do with my son’s disappearance?”
A calculating glint lit his shrewd, dark eyes. “I don’t place much stock in coincidences. You sa
id when she left your estate, she left your son unattended and simply disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“That is not normal, duchess.” Intense intelligence and cunning burned in the depths of his eyes. “She could have been running from something in that very moment, or perhaps she would have taken him with her but was prevented.”
Georgiana pressed her fingers to her lips. “I cannot credit it. Jane had been with my son for years. She loved him…but she just left him alone on the lake.” Oh God. Georgiana had been so relieved to know Jane was safe that she hadn’t paused to recall the foreboding that had filled her and the wall of silence she had encountered.
“I know it is not your way to retreat and allow someone else the reins. But in this…you will step back,” he said, steel underlying his tone. “Return home, and I’ll bring you your son, and if he is lost to you…”
She jerked, a cry of terror spilling from her.
“If he is lost to you, I promise I will deliver you the heads of every man and woman responsible,” he said with ruthless promise.
She was entrapped by the power of his gaze, and she trusted in the icy implacability she saw.
If he’s lost to you.
Dear Lord, please, she couldn’t lose her son. Not now. Her precious boy deserved to grow into a fine young man, to find a wife and to have children of his own. Then die when he was old, in his bed surrounded by his family. No one deserved to have their life snatched cruelly away from them for money. “Thank you,” she whispered.
An undefinable expression crossed his face. “Will you trust me, Georgiana?”
She gave a quick, decisive nod. “I am trusting you with my entire heart…my son. I’ll leave right away.” She was trusting him at the moment, with more than she had ever trusted anyone in her life.
Chapter Eight
Grief and pain were laid bare in the duchess’s eyes, and the sight affected Rhys more than he’d thought possible. He’d centered his life around his family. For his mother and sisters, he would do anything, be anything. He’d not allowed anyone in, simply because he only had so much to give. Yet the duchess’s tearstained face pierced a shield he’d not even realized existed in his heart. When had he ever felt such turmoil for another who was not family?
Her eyes were huge and shadowed, and he would have no mercy for the bastard who made this woman so vulnerable and frightened.
“Take an hour,” he murmured. “Refresh yourself and then return to Meadowbrook Park. I’ll not fail you.”
A thrill of satisfaction burst through him when he noted the moment she decided to place more trust in him. Her pain mattered to him, but for now, he couldn’t ponder how she had become so important to him in so little time.
Her son had been missing for hours, and if Rhys did not move now, the boy could be lost to them forever. Rhys launched from her and with clipped strides, collected his greatcoat, hat, and a walking stick that held a hidden foil. He would need to traverse to the darkest corners of the underworld tonight, and barter with shrewd skill.
While it would be faster to take his horse, he ordered his carriage to be brought around immediately. When he found the boy, he wanted him to be in a warm, comfortable space, for he would undoubtedly be petrified. If I find him… Pushing aside the sliver of doubt, he peered at the miniature. The young duke was a handsome boy, sharing almost all his features with his mother.
After leaving instructions for the duchess to be followed home at a discreet distance, and to utilize all means necessary for her protection, he climbed into the carriage and closed the door. Rhys allowed his thoughts to sift through everything he knew about the duchess, taking even the smallest details and turning them over. The missing nursemaid might be important. With a frown, he considered that thread, mulling over the possibilities.
He stopped at the docks, gin houses, and taverns, dropping the hints, subtle threats, and promises into the ears and eyes of his underworld connections. His reputation was such that everyone would believe his promises of repayment of an unmatched favor if the desired result was produced. He also promised a slow and painful death to anyone who had taken the job of kidnapping the child. Then he sent word that one Jane Walker, former ducal nursemaid, was wanted by The Broker.
Information was traded, promises were made, and the words started to echo in the secret walls of the stews. Confident he would have results soon, he slipped back into the carriage and tapped the roof. The carriage rumbled into motion, and less than fifteen minutes later he arrived at The Asylum.
He entered, and a ripple went through the crowd. As impossible as it seemed, word had already reached The Asylum that he needed their eyes and ears. The tension was visible from those who watched him. They whispered amongst themselves, and as he sauntered through, he caught snatches of the conversation.
“Eee promises a favor to any man who finds the boy.”
“Deuced strange if ye ask me.”
“Who is the boy?”
Rhys reached the balcony overlooking the majority of the crowd, watching and waiting. There wasn’t much more he could do out there in the night, combing the streets. A favor from him was golden in his world, the promise of receiving a desire that could be procured from no other would have everyone hunting for the information he needed, scouring the stews, the lowest thieves’ dens in London and the West End.
The only cause for concern was that he had shown that the boy was important to him. There might be those foolish enough who would think to withhold whatever information they found to drive him to a higher bargain. Then he would have to be merciless, for it could not be said The Broker was held ransom for information. Going to any length to protect those he cared about was a necessity that had been bred into his bones. It belatedly shocked him he was willing to do the same for the duchess.
Several moments of waiting passed before a shadow moved to stand beside him.
“When the word came down, at first, I didn’t believe it,” the rough voice murmured. “Who is this boy?”
“Important,” was all Rhys replied, shifting his regard from the crowd to meet his friend’s regard.
“That is all you have to say? This is not the time to become cryptic and inscrutable,” Riordan O’Malley said, his piercing eyes assessing the gaming hell, assessing his patrons and noting the tension.
“I never thought we needed a reason to help a child. The innocent must be protected at all costs.”
Riordan’s green gaze gleamed with curiosity and cunning. “Whoever he is, my friend, you’ve shown your belly to those of our world. You’ve never promised such a deal in return for information.”
Rhys couldn’t find the words to explain why finding the young duke was so important. Even now, the pain in Georgiana’s eyes haunted him, and there was an inexplicable need driving him to soothe her torment. “Any who believe they can use the boy as a further bargaining tool will learn the error of their ways.”
Riordan grunted. “The word came down that a toff is seeking someone to do away with a child. Seems this nob doesn’t have the guts to do it himself.”
Rhys stiffened. “How long?”
“He sent out the word over an hour ago. Then your call went out, and many reasoned that this could be the boy you are looking for.”
“Perhaps. Who is the nob?”
“No name came with the request. Only a promise of two hundred guineas. Such a fortune would have many men respond, even if the job is a child.”
Rhys did not believe in coincidences. It was rare for a child to be kidnapped and murdered. Many wealthy children, if left unattended, would find their shoes, coats and even all their clothes stripped from their bodies. Those less fortunate would see themselves forced into life as a pickpocket, a chimney sweep, and even to the brothel. No one casually took the life of a child, since alive they were worth more in profits.
“What time did this nob require a meeting?”
“At ten, at Vauxhall. I suppose he thinks he will be safe there.”
> Rhys glanced at his pocket watch. That was almost an hour from now, enough leeway for the man to panic and do the deed himself.
“I want you to go there for me, Riordan. Broker the deal and rescue the child. If the man does not show, it may be that I have him already.”
“You know who it is.”
“Perhaps.”
A hush suddenly descended on the boisterous throng. Two rough-looking men pushed through the crowd and subtly inclined their heads toward the back of the building. They had something for him. With clipped strides, Rhys made his way to the upper floor where the men waited in the corridor.
“She’s in the room,” one of the men said softly. They didn’t need to identify her name. Satisfaction slithered through him. About two hours after he had sent out the word, Jane Walker had been delivered.
“See Mr. O’Malley. He will settle with you.”
They nodded and slinked away toward the stairs leading to the lower floors. Rhys entered the room and closed the door with a snick. A sack covered her head, her hands and feet were bound, and he could feel the terror rolling from her. She writhed and twisted, but there was no give her in her bonds.
“Miss Walker,” he said, moving into the room. Rhys tugged the sack from her head.
Wild eyes swung around the office before they settled on him. She reared up and froze. “Who are you and where am I?” she screeched.
“Jane Walker?”
She twitched and then froze. Rhys smiled. She blanched, her throat working, and a greater fear filled her eyes.
He stooped and removed a knife from his boot. She whimpered and tried to scoot back into the sofa. He cut away the rope, freeing her wrists and ankles. Rhys stood and lowered himself into the chair facing her.
“Something has been taken…something precious, and you are a part of it. Reveal what you know, and you will return home this night. If not…” He let the threat hang in the air.
As expected her imagination did the rest, and she started to tremble. “What do you want to know?” she asked from bloodless lips.
