She eased over to the open doorway of the carriage and looked out. The deserted street was illuminated by only a pale sliver of moon. Caroline climbed out of the carriage, shuddering as her bare feet touched the cold ground. She’d lost her slippers long ago. At least her captors had seen fit to wrap her in a carriage rug. She clutched the fleecy fabric to her chest and began to run.
Here she was, in one of the wretched backslums of London, where every shadow had the potential to turn into a murderous footpad. She’d escaped certain death, only to face the dangers of the rookery.
Her best chance was to find some hidden nook and wait there until morning. By daylight, she had some hope of finding a hired coach and making her way back to Mayfair.
She turned into the first alleyway she saw. A low growl made her heart leap into her throat.
“Good dog,” she whispered. “Nice dog.”
The animal snarled again. Caroline froze.
After what seemed like hours, she heard a rustling sound as the animal moved away. She exhaled sharply.
The ground was cold and damp. Caroline could feel her feet going numb, and she’d begun to shiver convulsively. How would she survive the crisp October night, clad only in a coach rug and mermaid costume?
The preposterousness of her situation almost brought a smile to her lips. A. few hours before, she’d been waltzing under a dazzling chandelier with her nobleman husband and other esteemed members of the ton. Now she skulked about in a dingy, foul-smelling alleyway, feet bare and filthy, teeth chattering in her head.
She had to find some kind of shelter, else she surely would freeze. Reaching out, she gingerly ran her hand along the building to her right. A few feet along, she discovered a door. She tried the latch. Locked.
Her heart sank. No sensible man would leave his property unlocked at night, at least in this area of London.
She continued, feeling her way along the alleyway. She found two more doors, locked as well. Desperation began to gnaw at her. Her knees bashed into something, and she gave a cry.
“Look out there, now, this is our crib!” a high-pitched voice exclaimed.
“Who’s there?” Caroline asked.
“Blimey, but it’s a swell!”
“What she doin’ ‘ere?” another shrill voice demanded.
“Don’ know, but, ‘tis bad luck for sure.”
Children! She’d stumbled upon a band of street urchins! They’d obviously appropriated the old coal bin as a shelter. Her thundering heart slowed a bit. What did she have to fear from a group of children? “I need somewhere to spend the night,” she told them. “Will you share your quarters with me?”
There was a stunned silence, then squeaky whispers. Finally, one of them spoke boldly. “Who you runnin’ from? You got a fancy man after you?”
“Don’ be silly,” another voice piped up. “She ain’ no ‘ore. She ain’ got no fancy man.”
“ ‘Ow can you tell?”
“The way she talks—she’s a lady, she is.”
There was a gasp. Caroline decided it was time to take up the offensive. “My coach broke down,” she said, “and I’ve been stranded here. I merely need a place to stay until morning.”
“Why don’ your servant fetch another coach?”
“I’m certain he will,” she said confidently. “In the meantime, I must have someplace to stay. I fear the footpads and ruffians the same as you.”
“ ‘Ow do you know we won’t rob ye as ye sleep?”
“I have nothing to rob.”
“Then you ‘ave nothin’ to pay us with,” was the sulky response.
“I’ll pay you in the morning,” Caroline said in exasperation.
More whispering. “ ‘Ow much?”
“A guinea. Each.” She found the opening to the bin and climbed in. The place reeked of garbage. “Do you have a spare blanket?”
“Cost you extra.”
“I’ll give you another guinea.”
A piece of moldy cloth was tossed her way. Caroline ignored the smell and wrapped the material around her. She sighed heavily. It was possible that one of her companions would cut her throat while she slept. She’d heard that in places like this, children of eight or nine were often already hardened criminals, capable of murdering for a bit of food or piece of clothing.
Frankly, she no longer cared what happened to her. Between the trauma of her ordeal and the remnants of the drug in her body, she could scarcely keep her eyes open. If they killed her while she slept, so be it.
She leaned back, using the side of the bin as a pillow. Already she was warmer, as the heat from the small bodies beside her eased the chill in her limbs.
Thirteen
“This is the place, eh?” Christian gestured toward the shabby facade of the Blue Parrot.
“I allow he might take her to the inn where Beaumont was killed,” Devon answered, “but I favor this prospect more. The Crown and Crumpet seems a semi-respectable tavern, while this flash-house is the sort where a man can buy the silence of the customers for a handful of shillings.”
“So, how do we proceed?”
“There’s a back entrance. We’ll go in and check the upstairs rooms.”
Christian nodded. Observing his friend’s bright eyes and flushed face, Devon felt a lessening of his guilt at involving Christian in such dangerous circumstances. He was obviously enjoying himself.
The driver parked the coach a discreet distance from the tavern, and the two men set out on foot down the foul alleyway that ran behind the Blue Parrot. When they reached the back entrance, they found it locked.
“We could shoot off the lock,” Christian suggested.
“And wake every soul on Radcliffe Highway? I’d rather not announce our arrival so obviously.” Devon took out his pistol and used the butt to smash the lock.
“I say, Dev, you’re getting dashed clever at this clandestine business. Maybe you should apply for the position as chief magistrate on Bow Street.”
Devon gave his friend a quelling look then they entered the storage area. The piles of potatoes and barrels of ale rose nearly to the ceiling. Devon wondered if the murderer’s bribes had gone to pay for the loot.
Finding the rickety stairway, they both went up. Devon’s heart began to pound as he neared the top. What if he found Caroline, but it was too late? The image of her delicate body broken, her green eyes staring sightlessly, flashed into his mind. He would go mad if he lost her!
He struggled to maintain control. Readying his pistol, he gestured for Christian to do the same. The door at the top of the stairwell swung open and the two men advanced into the hall.
The place was as evil-smelling as ever, and Devon fought the urge to gag as he moved down the corridor, which was lit by only one feeble rushlight. He paused before the door in the corner, nodded to Christian, then, moving back a few paces, lunged into the door with his shoulder.
There was a splintering sound as the latch gave way. Devon shoved aside the ruined door and pushed into the darkened room. “Caroline?” he whispered.
“I’ll get the rushlight,” Christian said.
In seconds he returned. In the flickering light, the two men could make out a form on the bed. Devon rushed forward. “Caroline!” he cried.
His voice died in his throat as he saw his manservant’s brown eyes gazing up at him, looking not so much frightened as utterly outraged. “Ginter!”
“Good God. Is he alive?”
“Indeed, but he’s been bound and gagged, and it appears he’s taken great offense at his ill-treatment. Untie his hands while I free his mouth. With luck, he may know where Caroline is.”
As soon as the gag was off, Ginter began to cough. “Thank you, your lordship,” he finally managed. He made a face. “Of all the foul devils. Those ruffians didn’t even use a clean cloth to gag me.”
“What ruffians?” Devon demanded. “Do they have Caroline?”
“Caroline?” Ginter let out another loud cough. “You think they have Lady
Caroline?”
Devon sat down on the bed and leaned his head into his hands. Despair overwhelmed him. Ginter didn’t know where Caroline was.
“What happened?” Christian asked. “Were you abducted from the town house?”
“Yes. One of the footmen that Walters hired for the party came to me and reported that a fight had broken out among the coachmen, and I was urgently needed. I hesitated, of course, sir, knowing what you had told me regarding Lady Caroline, but she was right next to you and I could not imagine what harm could come to her under the circumstances. I followed the man outside. There was indeed an altercation going on. I stepped between the two young men to halt things and that’s when they jumped me.”
“Who?”
“Two other men. One tall and fair. The other red-haired and wiry. They shoved a filthy rag into my mouth and wrestled me into a hackney. Once there, they must have knocked me unconscious. I remember nothing until I woke up here.”
Devon shook his head. “Why would the murderer abduct my servant as well as my wife? It makes no sense.
“Unless he hoped to convince the world that the two of them had run off together,” Christian said. “If you recall, Quentin suggested as much.”
“He was jesting! The very idea of Ginter and Caroline—it’s absurd! Begging your pardon, Ginter.”
“No offense taken,” the manservant responded. “I find it more likely that I was meant to take the blame for her ladyship’s disappearance. If her body was found and I was never heard from again, everyone would suppose I was the one who killed her.”
“A clever plot,” Devon said. “Although even faced with such damning circumstances, I would never .believe you a murderer.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But who is the murderer?” Christian mused. “This villain has substantial resources. He dares to kidnap a lord’s wife from her very home. To kill a wealthy merchant and attack a nobleman. He dares much.”
He gave Devon a searching look. “Before you wed Caroline, the rattle was that you were badly dipped. It’s not uncommon for someone in that situation to fall into the hands of the moneylenders. Nefarious sorts they are, completely without scruples. If you’ve failed to repay a debt—”
“I can set your mind at rest,” Devon interrupted. “I never borrowed from any but legitimate sources, and as soon as the marriage contract was signed, I paid off everything.”
“Stranger and stranger...” Christian shook his head. “I can’t fathom the murderer’s motive.” “You don’t think it’s blackmail?”
“That’s not enough to explain all the trouble he’s gone to. And if it’s money he’s after, why doesn’t he keep bleeding you over Beaumont’s murder instead of going after Caroline?”
“If she’s dead, I would have complete access to her fortune.”
“Hell, Dev, you have complete access now! She’s your wife, for God’s sake. Most men would think of her money as their money as soon as the ink was dry on the contract.”
“If money’s not the motive, what could it be?” asked Ginter.
“I don’t know. Nor do I care.” Devon took a shuddering breath. “I simply want to find Caroline before it’s too late.”
Ginter pointed to the shattered door, hanging on one hinge. “Would it be possible to repair that and lie in wait for the murderer here?”
“Of course!” Christian’s voice rose excitedly. “The murderer must return to dispose of Ginter. When he does, we’ll capture him!”
“By then, Caroline could be dead,” Devon said. Just saying the words made him feel sick. “I have to keep searching for her. While I don’t think he’d take her to the Crown and Crumpet, I have to do something.”
“Go, then,” Christian said. “Take the brougham and do what you feel necessary. Ginter and I will stay here and set our trap.”
Devon went out, carefully shutting the door behind him. Despair fell heavy on him as he walked clown the fetid corridor. The more hours that passed since Caroline’s disappearance, the more likely that she was already dead.
How would he go on without her? He loved Caroline. She had pierced the armor he wore over his heart and reached the aching need beneath. With her warmth and genuineness, she had made him whole.
A deep sigh shuddered from his lips. He had to find her. He had to.
~ ~ ~
“Is it real, do ye think?”
“Nah, ‘twould be worth a bloomin’ fortune if it were. A gown o’ gold ye’d not dare wear on the street lest some filthy ragman pluck it right off o’ ye.”
Caroline opened her eyes to find two grubby-faced children examining her mermaid costume. They looked to be about eight or nine years old, although she’d heard that the poor diet of the children of the backslum often stunted their physiques.
“It’s not real gold,” she told them, “although it is costly.”
“Ye look like some sort o’ big carp,” one of them told her. He pointed to her artfully designed tail.
“I’m supposed to be a mermaid,” she said. “I was attending a masquerade, a party where people dress in costume.”
“What’s a mermaid?”
“It’s a mythical creature, half woman, half fish.” Two pairs of dark eyes blinked at her in disbelief. Caroline sighed. If she kept talking like this, her rescuers would likely abandon her as a madwoman. She must remember that they were children.
“I’m in trouble,” she told them. “Some bad men stole me and brought me to this place.”
She could tell from their expression that they were well acquainted with the idea of bad men. “I have to get home,” she said. “I need your help.”
They watched her, solemn and wary. Finally, the bigger one, who she presumed to be a boy from his shorter, although equally raggedy, hair spoke. “‘Ow did ye get away?”
“I pretended to be dead.”
They gaped at her.
“It’s true. The men were afraid they’d be in trouble with their employer for killing me. As soon as they left me alone in the coach, I climbed out and ran here.”
“Do ye think they’ll come lookin’ fo’ ye?”
“The two who abducted me? Not likely. But the other, the really evil one, he might.”
“What’s ‘e look like?” This was asked in a tone of trepidation and fear.
“He’s a nobleman. Very tall, with fair hair and fine clothes.”
They continued to stare at her. Seeing their pinched grubby faces, and their ragged garments, Caroline’s heart went out to them. She glanced around the filthy coal bin, “Is this really where you sleep? You have no other home?”
“‘Tis not so bad,” the boy said defensively. “We even ‘ave a bit o’ tarp we can pull o’er our ‘eads when it rains.”
“What do you eat?”
From their mutinous, defiant looks, she guessed the truth. “You steal, don’t you?”
“What else would you ‘ave us do, your fancy?” the girl asked. “When we wus little and cunnin’ faced we might ‘ave ‘ope of beggin’ our bread. Now we must pinch our food or starve t’ death.”
Caroline shook her head. In her world, children were pampered and cosseted. These bedraggled urchins were a reminder of the squalor that much of London lived in. “If you help me, I’ll see that you get a better home and food to eat,” she told them.
“We don’t want to go to the workhouse!” The girl set up a loud wail.
“Hush! I won’t make you. We’ll think of something else. But for now we must concentrate on getting out of here. Do you think you could find me a coach for hire?”
The boy nodded. “But the driver’ll want money. He won’t care if ye talk like a lady, not lookin’ like that. He’ll think ye’re a ‘hore.”
Caroline ruefully regarded her clothing. The sunlight streaming in the coal bin made the fabric glow with otherworldly brilliance, and the fashionably low neckline showed a goodly amount of cleavage. Her attire was wholly absurd for her circumstances.
Suddenly, she
remembered her jeweled combs. She removed one of them and held it out. “Do you think a coachman would take a piece of jewelry in lieu of payment, at least until I can get back to Mayfair?”
The boy took the gold comb and examined it.
“The pearls are real,” she said. “I’m certain it’s worth a great deal.” She fixed the boy with a penetrating look. “You could run off with it and never help me. But, remember, if you do that, I know where you sleep. I could have the watch roust you out. You wouldn’t want to lose your snug ‘crib.’”
The boy nodded. “Or, the second I leave ‘ere, you might set the charlies after me and say I pinched your jewels. They’d ‘ave me in the Fleet quicker ‘n’ ye could spit.”
“I won’t do that. I promise. If you help me, I’ll reward you handsomely. Please?”
The boy turned to his sister and they engaged in an intense whispered conversation. “We’ll help ye,” the boy finally announced. “Annie has a nose for wickedness, she does. She says ye’ll not betray us.”
“No, I would not, Annie.” She smiled at the girl. “I would even help you, if you would let me.”
“No workhouse,” Annie said.
“No workhouse,” Caroline agreed.
It seemed to take hours for the children to return. Caroline huddled in the coal bin and listened to her stomach growl. She took so much for granted in her privileged comfortable existence. Waking up hungry was a way of life for many of London’s citizens. Caroline vowed that if she got out of this situation alive, she’d be much more generous the next time the Ladies Aid Society called on her, asking for funds for the poor.
About midmorning, Caroline heard a scrabbling sound in the distance. When she peeped out of the coal bin, she saw Annie dashing toward her. “We’ve found a ‘ackney,” the girl announced breathlessly. “ ‘E’s waiting for ye o’ by the next street. Come on!”
Caroline crawled from her hiding place. Gathering the carriage robe around herself, she gingerly followed the girl down the alleyway.
The hackney was old, with a weathered, cracked top and broken wheel spokes. The driver was not much more prepossessing. His nose looked as if it had been broken several times and when he grinned at her, the gaps in his mouth outnumbered the teeth. “Begorra, they said ye were a looker! ‘Ave I died and the angels done come to take me away?”
Devil's Own Bargain (London Lords) Page 16
