by Jaycee Clark
“Set the candles down,” he whispered.
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed against the blade.
“I will cut his throat here and now. His blood will be on your hands and hers.”
The other man set the candles aside. When he looked away, Theodore knocked the knife against the temple of the man he held and then bashed it against the other man’s.
Two more down.
Being prepared was as important as walking the right path. He took out the coil of rope in the satchel hung around his shoulder and cut strips off it. In only seconds, he had both men tied and gagged.
Gutting the candles, he left the study and the men behind.
Quickly and quietly he hurried up the stairs.
The hallways were empty, the maids having retired for the evening.
Outside the nursery he stopped.
* * * * *
Jason laughed at the man beside him.
“Man as well off as yourself, no wonder the crackpots are coming out of the woodwork after you,” Viscount Shanling said.
“Well, it isn’t the first time I’ve been the center of someone’s mad musings.” Jason flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his sleeve and watched Emily talking to a group of women in the corner. “However, it is the first time anyone has dared to come after my family.”
The men around him nodded and murmured.
The Duke of Marlington asked, “What are you going to do about the situation? Is the man that dangerous?”
Jason nodded. “As far as we can tell, but then how does one measure madness and dementia? The man’s letters are positively cryptic. He thinks my daughter is his own and Emily is his wife for God’s sake.” He shook his head. “One wonders what breeds that sort of sickness in a man.”
“True, true,” Marlington offered. “Hire some guards I suppose.” He took a drink of his brandy.
“Yes, we saw to that immediately. Where my wife and child are concerned I take no chances. Nor, I think, would any of you.”
“You should just hire someone to find the bloke and save you the trouble.”
Jason smiled at the duke. “Thought of that myself, Your Grace, but I haven’t found anyone just yet.”
The duke leaned close. “I’ll give you a name.”
Jason pulled back, impressed at the older man’s generosity.
Marlington shook his head. “Your father and I were friends all our lives, surely my help doesn’t come as a surprise?”
Actually, the offer did. Marlington had always seemed so stiff, so set in his ways.
“Thank you,” Jason replied.
“You have much to protect. As you said, no point in taking chances,” Marlington said.
No, indeed not.
Emily caught his eye and he saw the panic race in hers. What was the matter? Then her grandmother came up and put her arm around Emily. Relief flittered across her face and she smiled.
Still wasn’t sure of her place here with him. He scanned the ballroom. With all these people? He’d never really thought about the scene before him. Emily fit in perfectly, yet stood out from each of them. The women dressed in shimmering, whispering silks. Their hair and jewelry were as perfectly complementary to the overall appearance as the flowers adorning their dresses. Men, who rarely wanted to be there in the first place, all looked the same in darker-hued colors. Save for the few dandies who thought to create their own fashion. One, Lord Pinkerlie, did like to create. His bright orange overcoat was as distracting as the grass green waistcoat he wore and green striped pants. The man was a holdover from the revolution and still spoke with traces of France in his voice. Just looking at the atrocious man gave Jason a headache.
“Damn peacock.” One of the men muttered.
Jason turned around.
“You were studying Pinkerlie, weren’t you?”
Jason tried to place the man, shuffled through faces and names. Sheldon. Sir Robert Sheldon. War hero, nephew and heir of Lord Kollerton.
“Yes, yes I was.”
“Like everyone else, wonder why he’s here, or come to see for yourself if the rumors are true?” the man bit out.
The anger in the other man’s words had Jason turning.
Sheldon was young, probably mid-twenties. Granted, any man who’d been through what either of them had been in the war, could never again be termed as young. There was a seriousness in him that told of experience.
“Sheldon, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He noticed the other men in their group had vanished.
Sheldon closed his eyes and took a deep drink from his champagne.
“My apologies.”
“Care to discuss it?” Jason could keep an eye on Emmy from here.
“Just that I’d like to call the man out.”
He looked back at him. “Pinkerlie? I dare say I don’t want to know, but curiosity is all but consuming. Why?”
Sheldon narrowed a look at him. “Where have you been, Ravensworth?”
Apparently out of the loop. “I’ve had my own concerns.”
Sheldon waved a hand. “Oh of course, the lunatic. Well, at least the man is crazy. Though looking at Pinkerlie one must wonder at his own sanity.” He sighed. “The blackmail rumors. He’s supposedly blackmailing my aunt and uncle and everyone is agog with why.”
Jason humphed. “I’m sure it’ll all blow over. Doubt there’s any truth in it.”
“You’d be the only one to believe that,” Sheldon muttered, then looked at Jason.
Sheldon was a few inches shorter than him, with wheat blond hair and sky blue eyes that reflected like cold winter ice.
“You need any help with your current problem?” he asked.
The question surprised Jason. The night couldn’t be going better. Jason sighed. “I don’t believe so, but thank you. I believe tomorrow we’re going to return to Ravenscrest Abbey.”
Sheldon nodded. “Better to keep an eye on them there. Too damn many people in London. Hard to keep track of oneself here, let alone anyone else.”
“Thank you, Sheldon.”
He shrugged. “Just remember if you need anything, I’d be glad to assist.”
Jason nodded and watched as the other man weaved his way through the crowd, steering clear of one very loud Pinkerlie. Blackmail? He shook his head and thought about his own problems. The large grandfather clock just to right of the entrance showed him they only needed to stay a bit longer.
* * * * *
Theodore slipped into the nursery, wondering how long he’d have. All he needed to do was grab the girl, knock her unconscious and get out.
He hurried through the room, but a shadow by the girl’s bed stopped him.
The nursemaid. He looked into the other room and saw the empty bed.
The woman screamed and rushed at him.
“Help! Help! Joy, run! Help!”
Theodore grabbed the maid, slicing across her neck with one quick swipe. Blood arced, splattering across the silks, across the wall, across the floor. She didn’t even have time to moan.
But she’d screamed. Damn woman, trying to warn the demons, she was.
He stared down at her.
Feet pounded down the corridor.
Something hit the door from the outside.
“Open it!” a voice hollered through the wood.
The little girl huddled at the top of the bed.
“Mary,” he hissed, “come to me now.”
She didn’t move.
“Now!”
He stepped over the woman at his feet and reached for the girl, but she darted to the other side and slid off. He dove across the bed as she yelled, “No! Jack! Jack!”
The door shuddered, splintered.
Theodore snatched as he tumbled off the bed, grabbing her hair. He jerked, her locket snapped and he was left holding the necklace with strands of hair.
He hid on the side of the bed as a man came growling into the room.
“Miss Joy!”
She darted to t
he demon who snatched her up.
“No,” Theodore rose and fired the pistol. The man jerked, but still darted around the corner.
“No!” Theodore screamed. He had to get out of here, before the other hell fiend came. Theodore dove out the window, the locket still clutched in his hand.
If the demon had her, there was no help for the child. He’d take her to hell.
The night air chilled moisture on his face as he climbed up the railing and scurried along the ledge to another drainpipe. No one was below. He looked back at the balcony and saw the other monster leering at him.
“We’ll find ye, we will,” the monster promised.
Theodore slid down the pipe and fisted the locket in his hand. He had to hurry. Hurry to catch the mother before she found out.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
He ran through the shadows, until blocks away, he hailed a hackney.
Time to get his wife.
Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.
* * * * *
Something was wrong. Emily could feel it. Sickness swirled in her stomach. The heat crushed against her, as were all the bodies. Perfumes mixed together and made the nausea churn again. Emily swallowed.
“Emily, dear, are you feeling all right?” her grandmother asked.
Emily tried to smile. “‘Tis the truth I could use some fresh air.”
Her grandmother frowned. Grabbing her hand, Victoria Warring pulled her to her feet. “Come, we’ll go refresh ourselves.” She looked at the other woman there with them. “Elsie, be a dear and let your nephew know we’ll be back in just a bit and that Emily is with me.”
The two women spent minutes traveling across the ballroom. By the time they made it to the staircase, she felt as if weights rested on her chest, strangling her air.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs a footman approached them.
“Lady Ravensworth?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve a message from your husband.”
Panic seized her. Had something happened? Is that why she hadn’t seen him?
“What is it?”
He looked from her to her grandmother. “I’m to give it to you privately.”
“Is something the matter?” her grandmother interrupted.
“Not that I know of, my lady,” the footman inclined his head.
“Go on, Grandmama, I will find out what this is about and meet you in the lady’s withdrawing room.”
Her grandmother looked her over from head to foot. “If you’re not there in a few minutes, I shall come looking for you. Husband or no.”
Emily smiled.
When the other woman left, Emily turned back to the footman. “Yes?”
“You’re to meet him on the garden terrace. And tell no one.”
She frowned, that was odd. “The garden terrace?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Why would Jason want to meet her alone? Unless he’d learned something and didn’t want anyone else to know. Relief trickled through her racing blood. Perhaps someone had found Theodore and it was over. Or almost over. If they just knew where he was located.
Smiling, she nodded. “Thank you. Which way?”
He pointed her down a hall and through some side doors. Her slippers hushed along the carpeted floors as she hurried to meet Jason.
The room he’d told her to go to was dim, only lit with the fire and a few candles. She darted through it and to the doors that lead out onto the terrace.
Something slithered through her as she opened the door.
Emily paused.
Meet your husband.
Jason?
Of course. The man had asked for Lady Ravensworth.
She took one step out into the night. Silence all but screamed against her ears.
Even the music could not be heard on this side of the house.
“Jason?” she asked, standing just outside the doors.
“Don’t scream or the girl is dead,” his voice hissed across the air.
Emily closed her eyes. Stupid. So stupid. Then his words registered. She whirled around, surprised to find him right beside her.
“Who?” she asked, her gaze raking over him. The same, he was the same. Black clothes, the hair, the face. Though the darkness hid his eyes.
“Our daughter.” He held something up.
The pale light from inside winked off the Joy’s locket. No. She stumbled back.
Joy.
Oh, God.
Amusement chuckled along his words. “Yes, it’s hers. And if you come with me now, without any trouble, she will be safe. But if you so much as look the wrong way, I will make certain she pays for your sins.”
Emily glanced down the terrace one way and then the other.
He slithered closer.
“Why, Rebeckah, who were you expecting to meet?” His fingers vised around her arm. “You only have one husband, don’t you, my dear?”
Her insides trembled. Please, no.
“Answer me, woman.”
“Y-Yes. Yes. I only have one husband.” She licked her lips, almost tripping as he jerked her along.
Nothing moved behind them. No one suddenly came to her aid out of the shadows. What was she to do? If she yelled would anyone hear in time to help her, or to stop him before he left and harmed Joy? She slipped one of her gloves off, and let it fall as Theodore pulled her down the stone steps and through a back gate. The ivy caught her hair and she twisted to pull it free. If she just had a moment. A hack waited in the alley. She paused. Help?
She glanced back over her shoulder.
Was Joy truly in there?
She couldn’t get in there with him. How would Jason find them? She had to stall him.
Theodore pulled up short. “Rebeckah?” he warned, his voice, low and even.
Emily hated that voice.
“You should let Joy go. It’s not Mary. She’s not Mary. She’s Ravensworth’s daughter and he’ll stop at nothing to find her. She’s not mine.”
His grip tightened moments before the back of his hand slapped hard against her cheek. Pain burst behind her eye. Emily pitched sideways, but he held her in his grasp.
“Do not ever instruct me. I am master. You are no more than a whore. A harlot of Babylon.” The words, heard so many times before, washed through her as he hit her again.
Tears stung her eyes. She couldn’t entice his rage. She knew the power of those fists, of his rages. There was the baby to think about.
Chills iced her veins. “I’m sorry, Theodore. But if you take her, he will hunt the Earth for her.”
Theodore jerked her close. “Shut your mouth and get in the carriage.”
Her knees shook so she didn’t think she could stand, but she climbed in the hackney, tripping and pulling on one of the cords off her gown. She heard the rip of material. Clasping it in her hand, she hurried into the darkened carriage.
The night swallowed them as he shut the door. Her gaze searched the dark interior. “Joy?”
Silence save for their breathing.
There was no one else there.
“Where is Joy?” she whispered.
“Demons,” he chortled.
“Please, Theodore, where is the child?”
He snarled. “I told you, with the demons. Damn things are everywhere. Tried to kill them all, but couldn’t. One got her, took her away. Took the girl to hell.” His words were spoken with that intense conviction of zealots.
Oh, dear God.
Please, please, let Joy be all right. Please let her be safe.
Demons?
Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her face. What evil had she let into their home by her selfish silence?
Jason would find them. He would find them. But until he did, she had to make certain she was safe. After all, she knew from her past, no one would save her from Theodore. No one but herself.
Before she’d been too much of a coward.
Not so now.
“Blood, can’t get the blood off,” he
mumbled.
As they passed a street lamp, she saw him wiping his hands on his pants, the backs stained with dark smears. His face looked like something out of her nightmares. Still handsome to many, perfect features, wide full lips, curved cheekbones, and deep set eyes, beneath perfectly arched brows. Yet there were splatters on his face.
Oh dear God, please let Joy be all right. Please let her be all right.
Emily trembled, for she knew the dark marks on his face were same as what was on his hands.
Blood.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jason rubbed the back of his neck. Rayne had shown up late and they were sitting in a corner of a small room. Other men gambled and drank at the various tables. The feeling that something was wrong would not go away.
“Nick is set to sail with the morning tide. He said he was going to probably stay on the ship tonight.”
“Be better if he waited,” Jason muttered.
“Maybe. But we both think this is the right time for the meeting. Also, Sir Taber mentioned he was going to introduce one of the new men to us on the morrow before you depart.”
“A new recruit?” Jason asked.
Rayne shook his head and leaned closer. “Worked the shadows for years. Just a solo player, but apparently wants a more…relaxed stake in the game.”
Jason grunted. “When?”
“In the morning. Nine. At the Minist…” Rayne trailed off as the Duke of Marlington walked up.
“Ravensworth. Hardlow.”
“Marlington,” they both said.
“I’m about ready to leave myself, but I thought I’d drop you that name I mentioned.”
Rayne hiked a brow and Jason barely shook his head.
“Yes?”
Marlington looked around and leaned down. “Nightingale.”
Jason blinked. “Nightingale you say?”
“Yes, as in the bird.”
Jason caught Rayne’s wide-eyed stare and managed to smile at Marlington. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
Marlington clapped him on the back and bid goodbye to Rayne before leaving.
Neither Rayne nor he spoke a word. Nightingale was a name they both knew well. There were three birds. Raven. Nightingale. Falcon.
“Well, hell,” Rayne muttered.
Jason nodded. “My sentiments exactly. Wonder how the bloody hell that got out?”
