by Candace Camp
“Miss Ward,” Thorpe said in his most freezingly aristocratic voice, “I will help you far more than anyone else. However, it would make it much easier if you did not persist in keeping secrets from me. I am aware that you must to some extent be involved in Alexandra’s activities and so you would not want to admit anything. But in this instance, I think that Alexandra’s safety outweighs any other considerations.”
“Of course it does. But I can’t tell you about any victims or cohorts because there haven’t been any. Alexandra has never been involved in any sort of trouble—at least, not until she came here and met you lot. From the moment you walked in our door, there has been nothing but trouble.” She crossed her arms and glowered at him.
Thorpe sighed. “Obviously I am getting nothing accomplished here.” He turned toward the door, saying, “I will let you know as soon as I find out anything.”
He strode out of the room and out of the house. By the time he reached the street, he was moving almost at a run. He could not remember ever having felt quite so helpless or frightened. Murdock would have more success than most people in finding out if a young lady had been abducted. Unfortunately, the scope of the investigation was so large and vague that it seemed almost impossible. London was teeming with criminals—how could they find one among so many? Nor did he imagine that there would be many witnesses to a kidnapping in the middle of the night. Eventually, he hoped, they would ferret out where she was. But how long would it take? And what would happen to Alexandra in the meantime?
ALEXANDRA WAS AWARE OF A tremendous ache in her head. She had no thoughts at first, only a throbbing awareness of pain that ran up one side of her face and exploded in her brain. There were voices, too, and her first conscious thought was that she wished they would go away, for they only added to the pain in her head.
“Very, very nice, Peggoddy,” a woman said in a flat, nasal voice. “I must say your taste has improved. How did you find her?”
A deep rumble answered her, but Alexandra could understand only a word or two of the thickly accented male tongue. “Don’t know. Seemed…waste, like.”
“Yes, it certainly would have been,” the woman agreed, with a chuckle. “You did right to bring her to me. Now you’ll get paid twice for doing one job.”
“That’s right!” The male voice brightened, as if he had only just realized that fact.
Alexandra stirred. She wished they would go away. She would like to tell them to, but she couldn’t quite summon the words. She tried to roll over, but couldn’t. Her hands seemed to be awkwardly stuck above her head.
“Looks as if she’s waking up,” the woman said. “You’d best hold her, Peggoddy.”
There was a grunt of assent, and something clamped on Alexandra’s ankles, pinning them down. There was the sound of scissors, and she felt her gown move a little. The sound came closer and closer, and as it did, she felt air touch her skin. Suddenly the two sides of her gown were pulled apart, exposing her entire body to the air. At this Alexandra’s eyes popped open.
She found herself staring into the face of one of the oddest women she had ever seen. The woman’s face was wrinkled and lined, like an old woman’s, yet her hair was not white, but an impossibly fiery shade of red. The mass of hair was done in an intricate style, and on one side three bright, long feathers were pinned in adornment. Gold and diamonds winked at her neck and pulled down her earlobes. She wore an emerald dress, cut indecently low to expose her wrinkled breasts almost to the nipples. But it was her face that was the most peculiar. She had covered it with powder and paint in the fashion that had been popular twenty or thirty years earlier, the skin utterly white, her lips and cheeks rouged red. Heavy black pencil lined her eyes and brows, and a beauty patch had been stuck on her upper lip near the corner of her mouth.
The woman was looking at Alexandra’s body, bared to her gaze. She nodded, smiling a little in satisfaction. “Ah, this is a ripe ‘un.” She cupped one of Alexandra’s breasts and jiggled it, studying the way Alexandra’s nipple tightened in response. “Oh, yes, I think we’ll make quite a bit on her.”
Alexandra gasped when the woman touched her breast, and the woman glanced at her. “Awake now, are you?” she asked pleasantly, as if there were nothing bizarre about the situation. “Pretty eyes, too.” She frowned. “Too bad you hit her on her face, though, Peggoddy. That bruise’ll mar her face—and I don’t want to make her up. She’s too fresh-looking for that.” She sighed. “I guess we’ll have to wait a day or two for that bruise to go away.”
“What—” Alexandra’s word came out as a croak, and she swallowed and tried again. “What are you talking about? Who are you? What do you think you’re doing?” She looked at the large man, and suddenly memory came rushing back to her. “What did you do to my mother?”
“I’m Magdalena,” the woman said. “Catchy, isn’t it? There’s them say I’m wicked for using a name from the Bible, but I ask you—isn’t it a name they always remember? Don’t you worry, you’re in good hands. Magdalena knows how to make use of a girl when she gets her. I’m not one what just throws them in there. I make sure I present her right when I get a fresh one like you.”
Alexandra stared at her, uncomprehending. She tried to sit up, but once again was thwarted by her hands. She craned to look behind her and saw, to her astonishment, that a short velvet rope bound her hands and tied them to a hook in the wall behind her.
“What—why—”
“Peggoddy brought you here.” Magdalena nodded toward the huge man at the end of the bed, who was leaning forward, his hands braced on Alexandra’s ankles, weighing her down. “He knows I’m the best, don’t you, Peggoddy? Spread her legs, Peggoddy, and let me see what’s what.”
Alexandra let out a cry of outrage as Peggoddy obediently pulled her legs wide apart. “Stop! What are you doing?”
The woman did not answer, but put her hand between Alexandra’s legs and inserted a finger. Alexandra gasped, rendered speechless by the crude gesture.
“Ah, better and better.” The woman smiled. “A virgin. I’ll fetch a good price for your first time.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alexandra snapped, rage shooting through her. “But you had better let go of me this instant.”
Both Magdalena and the man Peggoddy seemed to find this statement highly amusing, for they began to laugh. Alexandra seethed and struggled against her bonds, which provided the strange pair even more mirth.
“Oh, she’s a feisty one.”
Magdalena signaled to Peggoddy, and he released her feet. He stepped back, but not quickly enough to avoid a kick on his arm from Alexandra. He scowled and raised his hand, but Magdalena motioned him away.
“You’ve already done enough damage. You’re not to touch her again.” She turned and looked at Alexandra, who was twisting and turning and pulling at her bonds. She watched until finally Alexandra gave it up as useless. Alexandra lay, panting, looking at the woman with hatred.
“Yes, I can see you’re going to be a stubborn one. Well, there’s nothing to be done about that. There’s plenty as likes ’em reluctant, ‘specially when they’re virgins. I can think of several who will be quite interested in you. In fact, I believe I’ll start a bidding war among them—that should drive the price right up.”
A chill ran through Alexandra. She was helpless and at this woman’s mercy. She closed her eyes and drew a breath, forcing herself to sound calm. She had to get out of here somehow. She had to find out if her mother was all right.
“Look,” she began. “I don’t know how I got here or why Peggoddy took me, but I can tell you that you have made some sort of mistake. I realize that money is your first consideration. And I am worth a great deal of money. I can pay you more than any of these men you’re talking about, if you will only let me go.”
“More than ten good years’ worth? I don’t think so, Miss High-and-Mighty. Even if you could, I’m not stupid enough to think that I could trust you to pay me after I let yo
u go.”
“Send a note to my aunt. She will pay.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “There’ll be those who will pay me plenty a few nights from now, and I don’t need to be sticking my neck out sending relatives notes and such to get it.”
“No! Please, listen to me. You have to believe me. We could arrange it. I will pay you.”
There was a knock on the door, and it opened. A girl came in bearing a small tray. She barely glanced at Alexandra on the bed, accustomed, presumably, to such sights as a woman in a torn nightgown lying tied to the wall. She set the tray beside the bed.
“Sit up now,” Magdalena ordered. “Here’s food for you to eat.”
“I don’t want any. I won’t eat it.”
“Won’t you? It’s mighty tasty, and here it is past breakfast.” She picked up a glass of water. “At least drink this.”
“No!”
“Jenny,” Magdalena said significantly, and the girl went over to a low brazier not far from the bed. A few small sticks and such were in the brazier, and the girl efficiently lit them, sending a trail of smoke in the air. Then she dipped several spoonfuls of what appeared to be herbs onto the fire. The fire began to smoke heavily.
Alexandra coughed. “You’ll asphyxiate us,” she protested.
“Not at all.”
The smoke was heavy and pungent. Alexandra coughed again, but she could not keep from breathing in the thick, dark stuff, as the girl was busy with a fan directing the smoke toward Alexandra.
“Please. Stop that. I need to find out—my mother, is she all right?” Alexandra’s words sounded strangely slow to her ears. A strange sort of lassitude was creeping through her. She realized how hungry she was—and even more thirsty. Her mouth felt as dry as the desert, and she wanted water desperately.
She looked at the glass the woman held. She knew she should not drink it, but she was having trouble remembering why. She drew a deep breath. The smoke no longer bothered her. In fact, nothing was all that bad. What could it hurt to drink a little water? Or eat some food? She looked at the tray. She could imagine the crisp, juicy tang of the apple, the smooth taste of the golden cheese, the thick slab of bread slathered with creamy butter.
Magdalena picked up the plate from the tray and held it closer to Alexandra. It seemed to Alexandra that she could smell each individual piece of food, and they were all wonderful. Her stomach rumbled hungrily.
“Maybe a bite,” she mumbled.
Magdalena smiled. “First drink a little water. Peggoddy, help her up.”
He came to the side of the bed and lifted her under her arms to as near a sitting position as she could get with her hands tied as they were. Magdalena held the glass of water to her lips, and Alexandra sipped.
She screwed up her face. “Bitter.”
“Take another sip. It won’t be long.”
She held the glass to her lips again, and when Alexandra opened her mouth, she tilted it up and poured in a whole mouthful. Surprised, Alexandra swallowed. This time it didn’t taste as bad, and in a few more drinks she had drained the glass. With Peggoddy still propping her up, she ate the food that Magdalena held to her mouth. It tasted delicious, almost as good as she had imagined, and she ate greedily. By the time she finished, however, her lips felt strange and rubbery, and she noticed that there was a hazy look to everything. She glanced around the room, amazed at how good she felt, how warm and wonderful everything seemed.
“I’m sleepy,” she mumbled.
“Of course you are. You have a nice long sleep ahead of you.” Magdalena motioned to Peggoddy to release her, and he did so. Alexandra closed her eyes, slipping immediately into sleep. Magdalena looked at her with satisfaction. “Well, that ought to take care of her for the rest of the day. We’ll give her another dose with her meal this evening. And for heaven’s sake, douse that fire before we all get stupid.”
NEVER IN HIS LIFE HAD TWO DAYS passed so slowly for Sebastian. As soon as he had gotten home from his talk with Aunt Hortense, he had summoned Murdock and told him what had happened. He had laid whatever servants or money he might need at the man’s disposal with only one directive—find her. Next he had hired a Bow Street Runner and given him the same mission.
But he could not sit at home waiting for the net to catch some word on Alexandra’s abduction. He had gone to the rough sort of places he had frequented in his wilder youth, taverns where one had to watch one’s back, and gaming hells where one had to watch everyone else’s hands. He had made some friendships long ago in those places, and he called on them now, explaining the information he wanted and the money he was eager to pass on to anyone who could give him that information. By the end of the day, he had exhausted his sources, and there was nothing left for him to do except wait.
He did it poorly, pacing his study and snapping at every hapless servant who was foolish enough to interrupt him without bringing word of Alexandra. He did not pause to consider why he felt as if his life hung in the balance because a woman whom he held in contempt was in danger. The only thought that occupied him was the worry that the longer she was missing, the more likely it was that she had been harmed. He thought of the man taking her off somewhere and raping her, and his fingers curled into fists, red-hot anger coursing through him. When he got hold of the man, he promised himself, he would make him sorry he had ever been born.
Murdock urged him to eat and sleep, pointing out how little use it was to make himself less alert and strong for when the time came for action. Sebastian understood the logic of his manservant’s words, but he could not follow his advice, however reasonable. Food seemed to stick in his throat, and though he lay down on his bed, sleep kept its distance from him, coming only in fits and starts. During the brief periods when he did sleep, he dreamed crazy, frightening dreams and awakened from them with a start.
By late the next afternoon, he looked as if he had aged years, and he felt worse. There were blue circles beneath his eyes, and lines had sunk into the skin around his mouth. He had not bothered to shave or to tie a cravat. The lunch that Punwati had brought him was on a tray on his desk, largely untouched.
He sat slumped in a chair beside the desk, his eyes closed, but he was not asleep. When the door opened, his eyes flew open and he was out of his chair in an instant. Murdock stepped into the room, and though his face was set, there was an intensity to his eyes that gave Sebastian hope for the first time in two days.
“What is it? Do you have news?”
“We tracked down a man. He’s known for doing jobs that require brawn, not brain, and today he’s been spending money and boasting about getting paid two ways, saying once for the old lady and once for the girl.”
Sebastian’s heart picked up its beat. “Where is he?”
“In a tavern. I got men watching him. He won’t get away. But I thought you’d want to talk to him yourself.”
“You’re right about that.” Sebastian was pulling on his jacket. “Get my pistols.”
“In the hall, my lord.” Murdock’s pistol was already tucked into the waistband of his trousers, hidden by his jacket. “I took the liberty of having the carriage brought round.”
A faint smile touched Thorpe’s face for the first time since he had heard of Alexandra’s abduction. “You know me well.”
“I should hope so, sir,” Murdock said with an air of indignation as he followed Thorpe out of the room.
A few minutes later their carriage pulled up in front of a tavern in the East End of London, a seedy place that, from the looks of it, was unused to customers arriving in carriages. A drunk, staggering out the door of the tavern, stopped and goggled at the sight of Lord Thorpe stepping from the vehicle, followed by Murdock. The driver glanced around the narrow street uneasily and was glad that Murdock had ordered him to bring the burliest of his grooms with him.
Inside the tavern, Murdock looked around until he spotted one of his men. A nod from the man indicated the table in the corner, where a large man sat with two smaller cronies,
downing a glass of ale. Murdock and Thorpe strode through the crowded tavern and stopped beside the table. All three men looked up, bleary-eyed.
Murdock directed a hard look at the two companions and jerked his head in an unmistakable directive to leave. They glanced uncertainly at their large companion, then melted away. Murdock and Thorpe sat down, one on each side of the large man.
“Wot d’you want?” the man asked, slurring his words.
“Just to have a chat, Mr….”
“Peggoddy.” The man scowled. “’Oo wants to know?”
Thorpe ignored his question. “I understand you came into quite a bit of money today,” Thorpe said pleasantly.
Peggoddy looked at him suspiciously. “So? Wot’s it to you?”
Thorpe’s lips moved in something resembling a smile, but so chilling that the man slid back a little in his seat. “You were paid a bit to kidnap a young woman.”
“No. Never.” Peggoddy looked pleased with himself. “’E only said to take care of the old biddy. I thought of the wench on me own. Soon as I saw ‘er, I thought, ‘Madam’d pay a bit to get one like that.’ Quality an’ all, you know, an’ lookin’ like she did.”
Thorpe’s fingers curled into his palms, but he kept his voice level.
“How did she look?”
“Wot?”
“Describe her.”
Peggoddy looked at him oddly. “Wot you want to know for?”
“Never mind that. Just tell me.” He reached in his waistcoat and pulled out a silver coin, which he slid across the table invitingly.
Peggoddy snatched up the coin, saying, “Black hair, curly like. Fair skin. A looker, that one.”
Sebastian wanted to wrap his hands around the man’s throat and squeeze the leer from his face, but he forced himself to keep still. “Did you hurt her?” he asked, his voice like rust.
“The girl? I never touched ‘er.” He sounded disappointed. “She were a ripe ‘un, too. But I knew madam’d ‘ave my ‘ead if I damaged ‘er. Why, she docked me ‘cause o’ that little bruise on ‘er cheek—as if I could ‘elp that! She come flyin’ at me, and I ‘ad to do somethin’, didn’ I?”
