by Cheryl Bolen
"No way we can we catch that coach," the soldier, Helmsworth, said to him.
"I know." He froze there for several moments, numb with fear and stupefied by his own powerlessness.
All he knew to do was to go for Ashburnham on the off chance it would lead to Emma.
"Get my brother William and tell him I've gone to the Ceylon Tea Company in Southwark. I'll send the other soldiers there."
* * *
He'd not trust that nag-driven cart to speed him through the Capital. They drove it to Nick's place at the other end of Piccadilly. Because his brother's town home was the largest in London, it housed a sizeable stable. Adam swapped his nag and cart for one of Nick's fleet-footed beasts, as did the pair of soldiers who had not mounted a horse. While his mount was being saddled, he raced into his brother's house, tossing off his woman's wig and shawl as he hastened to Nick's bedchamber and quickly threw on—with Nick's valet's help—men's breeches, boots and shirt. He didn't take time to tie a cravat. They all took off at a manic pace along the city's busy streets.
His confidence that his horse could move far more quickly than any carriage paid off. He pulled up in front of the tea company in a matter of minutes. The same journey in a coach at this time of day would have taken nearly an hour.
He raced upstairs and came to a halt in front of Ashburnham's empty desk. Then he remembered that the clerk had moved into Simon Hastings' old office. Its door was open, but there was no sign of Ashburnham. Hoping against hope, Adam sped to Fauke's office and threw open the door. "Where's Ashburnham?"
"He just received word that he was needed elsewhere and left. I didn't ask where. I assumed there was trouble with one of our customers."
Adam cursed. "Where does he live?"
Faukes shrugged. "All I know is that he lives in Southwark."
"There must be something that has the man's address!"
"You might ask the fellows in shipping down below. Perhaps one of them knows."
Downstairs, Adam questioned each man. One by one, they shook their heads. When he reached the final worker, a burly young man who could not yet have reached twenty, that man nodded. "I've never been to Mr. Ashburnham's house, but I seen him walk there many times. It's on me own way home from work."
"Come. Show me."
To the knot of soldiers gathered outside the tea company, Adam said, "Follow us!"
William came pounding up on a stallion, and as they rode through Southwark, Adam tired to explain—in short bursts—what had happened.
The street where Ashburnham lived was about a mile from the tea company. The Birmingham brothers dismounted and gave orders that the building be surrounded.
The extremely narrow house was of the style built more than a hundred years earlier. Not unexpectedly, the street was very quiet, given that people who lived in so modest a neighborhood had to work for a living.
Adam dispensed with knocking on the door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He then tried to smash himself into the door. It held.
William stepped over to the house's only ground-floor window and butted the hilt of his knife into it. It shattered.
William cleared away the broken glass to open it, climbed through the opening, and let his brother in the front door. The two men, swords drawn, went from room to room, searching for Ashburnham. There were two shabby rooms down, two room up. And no Ashburnham.
The only place he could have hidden was under the lone bed, but nothing was there.
How would they ever find Emma in a city as vast as London?
Chapter 24
Footsteps mounted the stairs. One person's. A man. Fear choked her. It must be Ashburnham. How much time did she have left before he killed her?
Her efforts to free herself of the tightly knotted rope around her wrists had failed. Everything had failed.
And now she would die.
A key went into the lock, the handle twisted, and the door opened. Ashburnham stood framed in the doorway. He was not a large man, not large at all, but no one had ever looked so menacing. A sneer dragged on his mouth, and he eyed her with palpable hatred. "I should have killed you that first week."
She straightened her spine. She did not want to appear a defenseless female, though that was exactly what she was. "You are a fool if you think my husband would not avenge my death. Do you have any idea how powerful he is?"
He laughed a mirthless laugh. "If I can nab you, I can trick him. Nobody gives me credit for being the genius I am. I can slay him—and get away with it. You think he's powerful. It's I who's the powerful one. No one can defeat James Ashburnham."
"You're already defeated. We have proof that you forged my uncle's will. We have proof you forged the note from Mr. Faukes. We will soon have proof that my uncle was poisoned. It does not take a genius to follow the crimes to the one person who benefits from them."
"With you and your husband dead, there will be no one to challenge the will. You're Simon Hastings' last surviving relation."
"My husband's solicitor knows everything, and his loyalty to the Birmingham family ensures that he will see you hang."
Ashburnham shrugged. "A convenient accident will silence him."
"You're delusional."
He came closer. "You've told me everything I needed to know. Your husband and Emmott will also have to be silenced." He started walking toward her, his hands balled into fists.
"There are others!"
He stopped. "Who?"
"I shan't tell you."
He moved to her and closed his sweaty hands around her neck.
* * *
"Back to the tea company!" Adam ordered. Faukes might know of a place where Ashburnham would be keeping Emma. Since he'd not yet come into a penny of Hastings' money, it wasn't likely Ashburnham would have the funds for another place. He had to be hard pressed for cash, especially given that he was hiring brutes to capture a defenseless female.
They all rode as if a wildfire leapt at their heels, and they reached Faukes' business in less than two minutes.
He burst into Faukes' office. "Ashburnham's got my wife. We've got to find her before she ends up like her uncle!"
William stepped forward and addressed Faukes. "Is there any building you know of, a place where he might have taken her? A place in an unpopulated area?"
His brows lowered, Faukes shook his head solemnly.
Adam winced. God in heaven, what was he to do? "We've got to send our men to every corner of the city. We've got to find her." He knew that looking for a needle in a haystack would have been far easier.
A sickness in his gut, he began to leave Faukes' office. His poor little Emma. How he wished he could die with her so she wouldn't have to be alone.
He'd never see her again. It sickened him even more to realize he had never told her he loved her. God, but he loved her! She was the best thing that ever happened to him.
"Wait!" Faukes said.
Adam turned back and froze with profound hope.
"We used to have an auxiliary warehouse near the docks, but we abandoned it because the roof was bad, and the quay had become useless."
"Where?" Adam demanded.
"I'll show you."
Chapter 25
She could not scream. She could not slap him. But she could move. She wasn't about to be trapped in a corner.
With her bound hands, she lifted her skirts as he moved toward her, and with every ounce of strength in her body, she jammed her knee into his groin.
He screamed like a woman and fell to the floor.
Thank God he'd left the door open! She raced to it. Just as she reached the doorway, his hand caught her dress and yanked.
She fell just feet away from where he'd landed. She tried to propel herself toward the open doorway, but he wouldn't let go of her dress. A string of vile curses flowed from his vile mouth. Fortunately, his obvious pain prevented him from moving quickly.
Whenever his pain abated, she knew he would regain his strength and strangle the life from
her. She kicked at him. He grabbed her foot and cursed some more. She tried to kick him with her other foot but could not quite reach him. How could she get away from his deathly grasp? She was no match for him in strength.
Minutes passed. His curses trailed off as his pain subsided. Her heart drummed. He's going to kill me now.
Still digging his fingers into her foot, he sat up. His green eyes bore into hers as he moved toward her. He then did a most peculiar thing. He straddled her as if she were a horse.
His hands closed around her throat. "You will tell me who else knows." His grip tightened.
She felt as if her windpipe collapsed. "I'll not tell you," she croaked.
He squeezed harder. "I think you will."
She felt as if she could not breathe. Panic set in. She shook her head rapidly.
"Tell me who else knows. Does your husband's brother know? That fellow who rules the Exchange?"
Nick. She had nothing to lose. He would kill her if she did not tell him, and he'd kill her if she did. She probably couldn't answer because her throat was so restricted, but she wasn't about to try.
Her only consolation in death was the knowledge that the Birminghams would hunt him down like a mangy dog.
She flashed a defiant gaze at him.
"Why, you . . . " His hands choked her harder.
Now she really could not breath. Involuntarily, her eyes closed, and she felt as if she were falling into a dark well.
From far off she heard Adam's voice. "Get your foul hands off my wife!"
* * *
Adam raced toward Ashburnham and leveled a kick right in the man's face. The clerk went sailing backward, curse words spouting.
"I'll take care of him," William yelled. "See to Emma."
Her eyes closed, she looked as if she were dead. The imprint of Ashburnham's fingers whitened against the blue of her neck. Blinding rage filled Adam. I'll kill him.
Tears spilling from his eyes, he lifted her into his arms and cradled her, weeping. "Please don't die." He kissed her hair, kissed her cheeks, and finally drew a gasping breath and pressed his lips to her blue mouth.
They were warm. She wasn't dead! "My God, Emma, I can't lose you. I love you!" His breath hitched. "I love you with all my aching heart."
Her lids fluttered. She mumbled, "I was dying to hear those words."
He held her tighter. And wept.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later . . .
The bloody circles around her wrists no longer bled. The blue circle around her neck was fading. James Ashburnham was in Newgate Prison charged with murder. But still her husband had not returned to his bank. He refused to leave her side.
Not that she minded. She never tired of being with him, never tired of being cherished by this man she loved more than life.
This was the first day he had allowed her out of their house since the day James Ashburnham had nearly killed her. Adam's ministrations on her behalf were growing tedious. As much as she basked in his love and as much as she admired their beautiful house, she needed to get away, and so did he.
They sat close in the carriage, each of them touching and feeling and kissing the other. She would never tire of these actions.
As the coach rattled over the busy streets of the Capital, she reflected on that horrid day James Ashburnham tried to kill her. She was quite sure she was almost dead when she heard Adam declare his love for her. From the edge of oblivion, she clawed back. Because of Adam. Because of his love for her.
"I have a confession," she said.
He pulled her closer. "And what might that be?"
She drew a deep breath. "Since the day I married you, I've been in love with you."
He smiled. "That's hardly a confession. A confession's a revelation about something wicked." Drawing her even closer, he growled, "Unless you're admitting you've always had wicked thoughts about me."
She playfully swatted at him. "I didn't know about wickedness until you introduced me to it."
He kissed her hungrily and splayed his hand over her breast. "In this way?"
Her breath was coming fast. "You're very wicked."
"I have a confession, too."
She raised her brows.
"Nick told me I had never married because I'd not met The One." He paused. Swallowed. "You are The One."
Her eyes moist, the former Miss Emma Hastings was speechless.
He drew her into his arms. "Where is it you're taking us today, love?"
"I'm not telling you until we get there."
"Why the secrecy?"
"It's not really secret. It's just that I was afraid you wouldn't want to come. You'd find it too somber after all we've been through."
Their carriage came to a stop. She peered from the coach window and realized they'd arrived at their destination.
The coachman let down the step and opened the door. Adam looked around. "You've brought me to a bloody cemetery?"
She nodded playfully as he assisted her from the coach. "It's where Uncle Simon is buried."
He bowed his head and adopted a solemn countenance.
"You mustn't be mournful," she said. "I'm very sorry for his death and very sorry that I never met him, but I owe so much to him."
It was then that the coachman handed her the flowers she had pre-selected to place on her uncle's grave. She and Adam walked along the old cemetery until they found the granite marker. She grew solemn as she read her uncle's name and the dates of his birth and death. Leaning over the grave, she placed the wreath against the headstone.
"I know it's silly," she said, "but I wanted to tell Uncle Simon that I've decided to use the money he left to me to establish an orphanage in London. I was a fortunate orphan to have had Aunt Harriett and Uncle Simon. Most others, especially here in London, aren't as lucky. Because of Uncle Simon, orphans for decades to come will have a home and opportunities to succeed in life."
Adam nodded his agreement.
"And, Uncle Simon," she said, looking at his headstone, "I want you to know that because of your death, I've had the great good fortune to unite myself with the most wonderful man in the world. It would never have happened had you not died." She recalled the rainy night of her arrival in London, the night she met her husband. What could have been disastrous for her turned into an unrivaled advantage.
Adam moved directly behind her and pulled her against him, encircling her in his arms. "Permit me to address your uncle."
Happiness flashing in her eyes, she nodded.
"I will cherish your niece until the stars cease to shine, until the end of time."
She turned around to face him, tears glistening in her eyes. "I think Uncle Simon would approve."
He drew her into his arms for a tender kiss.
The End
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Miss Hastings’ Excellent London Adventure. If you would like to keep up with my new releases and other writing news, you can subscribe to my occasional newsletter here.
Brazen Brides Series
If you enjoyed Miss Hastings’ Excellent Adventure (Book 4 in the series), you might like to check out the other installments in the Brazen Brides series:
Counterfeit Countess (Book 1)
His Golden Ring (Book 2)
Oh What A (Wedding) Night (Book 3)
Marriage of Inconvenience (Book 5)
Counterfeit Countess
“Readers who like their Regencies spiced with danger and desire will love Bolen's humorous and sexy romance”—Booklist
How can Edward, the Earl of Warwick, get rid of the beautiful woman who comes barreling into his house with no less than fourteen trunks, a younger sister, a maid, and a very large cat? The imposter claims to be Lady Warwick.
Under orders from his superior at the Foreign Office, Edward can't get rid of her because her late husband held the clue to the identity of England's greatest traitor, a clue they must get. But how can Edward be with Maggie, the lovely counterfeit countess, day
in and day out—and still keep his pledge to wed another? Available at Amazon.com.
His Golden Ring
Holt Medallion 2006, Best Historical Romance
“Who can resist a marriage of convenience between a couple who have nothing in common—but passion!”—Eloisa James, New York Times Bestselling author
The past year has been most unkind to Lady Fiona Hollingsworth. First, the man she has been promised to for half her life (Edward, Earl Warwick, hero of Counterfeit Countess) broke her heart by marrying another. Then her beloved father died, leaving his financial affairs in shambles. And now her eldest brother has been abducted by Spanish outlaws who demand an exorbitant ransom to ensure his safe return. Desperate to save her brother, Fiona remembers a chance meeting with the handsome Nicholas Birmingham, the richest stockbroker in all of England, a man shunned by her brother. She casts her pride aside and goes to Nicholas, but all she has to offer as collateral is . . . herself. Available at Amazon.com.
Oh What A (Wedding) Night
As Lady Sophia Beresford (recently Lady Finkel) passes through the gates of her new bridegroom’s country estate and he begins to whisper in her ear of the delights that await her in his bed, Lady Sophia realizes she has made a most dreadful mistake. There’s only one thing to do. She must bolt.
The bride-on-the-run is rescued by the exceedingly handsome William Birmingham who thinks she’s a woman named Isadore, and though he’s the richest man in England, she mistakes him for a common (but well-to-do) criminal. Since she’d rather be dead than wed to Finkel, Sophia pretends to be Isadore and take her chances with the provocative Mr. Birmingham. But how could she have known that her ruse would bring the gallant Mr. Birmingham into such peril from the wicked man she married? And how could she have known her enigmatic rescuer would ignite passions she’d never known she possessed? Available at Amazon.com.
