by Candace Camp
Megan nodded, then winced at the movement. “Yes. I hit the ground. I remember that but nothing afterward. I must have hit my head when I fell. Next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground and Miss Withers here was trying to awaken me.”
Con looked at the other women. “What happened after that?”
“Those men threw all of them in the carriage and took off. They were gone before any of the rest of us could move a muscle. I’m so sorry.” Tears sprang into Miss Withers’s eyes. “I wasn’t any use at all.”
“Which way did they go?”
“Down the side street.” She pointed.
“They turned left at the first street,” one of the other women offered. “Then they were out of sight.”
Con shoved the handkerchief into Lilah’s hand and took off at a run.
“He won’t see them. They must be long gone.” Lilah watched Con as she held his handkerchief to Megan’s head.
“That won’t keep him from trying,” Megan replied, a thread of amusement in her voice. Lilah looked into Megan’s eyes and saw that they were clearer.
Con stopped at the end of the block and stood for a long moment, looking to his left, before he loped back to them. With Lilah’s help, Megan rose to meet him.
Con’s jaw was set and his eyes blazing. “Lilah, take Megan back to the house. I’m going after them.”
“How do you intend to do that?” Lilah asked. “You don’t know where they’ve gone.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“That sounds excellent,” Lilah said crisply, taking Megan’s elbow and turning toward the carriage. “Find a carriage and head off in the general direction they took sometime ago. No planning, no information, no idea what the duke or any of the other husbands think or why your mother and sisters were taken. I’m sure you will do wonderfully well.”
Beside her, Megan snickered. Con’s face was a study in frustration, but he scooped Megan up and strode toward the waiting hack, saying in an aggrieved tone, “Yes, I know. I’m impulsive and quick-tempered, and you, of course, are logical, rational and right.”
The coach took off as soon as they were settled. Con leaned back against the seat, arms crossed, sunk in a deep study. The driver set a pace fast enough it made Megan wince as they rattled over the cobblestones, but she didn’t protest. When they reached the house, Megan handed back Con’s bloody handkerchief and insisted on walking into the house unaided.
“You are not carrying me in like some invalid. Theo will treat me as if I’m at death’s door.”
They found a thoroughly distressed Smeggars hovering in the entryway. He greeted them with a cry of delight and hustled them down to the Sultan Room. Even before they reached the salon, Lilah heard the agitated male voices. Inside, the room seemed to be filled with large men—standing, pacing, arguing, looking grim.
The butler, adept at gaining attention from years spent in the Morelands’ service, stepped in, announcing grandly, “Gentlemen! The Marchioness of Raine.”
Silence fell instantly and they all swung around to stare at Megan, flanked by Lilah and Con.
“Thank God!” Theo crossed the room in two strides and pulled his wife into his arms, squeezing her so hard she let out a squeak of protest.
“What happened, Con? What’s going on?” Reed came forward. Lilah saw for the first time that his wife, Anna, was also in the room, sitting against the wall. She was still pale, her face stamped with worry.
While Theo fussed over his wife’s injuries, the rest of the men bombarded Con with questions. Lilah left him to the interrogation and made her way to Anna. “How are you?”
The other woman attempted a smile. “Better. The headache’s gone. It usually disappears. But it always leaves me tired.”
“Perhaps you should rest.”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine here. I couldn’t lie down and sleep, knowing they were still out there. I feel so awful that I didn’t go with them. If only I’d realized earlier—”
“You mustn’t blame yourself. If you had been there, how could you have prevented it? It’s far better that you and Megan aren’t missing, too.”
“No doubt you’re right. Tell me what happened. You found only Megan?”
Lilah related to her everything they had done and discovered, a good deal more quickly and in better order than Con was managing with the frantic and furious men across the room. Fortunately, Smeggars wheeled in the tea cart, along with iodine and bandages for Megan’s injuries.
“This is no time for tea,” Kyria’s husband, Rafe McIntyre, protested.
“Oh, no, sir, I think you’ll find it’s exactly the right time.” Smeggars smiled benignly.
“Yes, yes, you’re right, Smeggars, as always,” the duke agreed. “We’re accomplishing nothing this way. Let’s sit down and think this thing through. There has to be a way out of this. They won’t hurt my girls.”
Rafe started to object, but Stephen St. Leger clapped a hand on his shoulder and cast a meaningful glance at the duke. Rafe nodded and subsided.
“You’re right, sir,” Stephen said. “We shouldn’t panic. That’s what they want—to rattle us so much we can’t think.”
As Smeggars served the tea, Uncle Bellard slid forward on his chair, gazing at Megan in his mild way. “Now, Megan, dear, is there anything else you can tell us about these men? Now that your mind is clearer. I’m sure your skills as a reporter enabled you to notice more details than the average person.”
Megan took a breath. “You’re right. I should think like a reporter.” She closed her eyes. “There were three of them. They wore workingmen’s sort of clothes, dark, and they had on soft caps, pulled low to conceal their faces. Their carriage—no, wait, it wasn’t a carriage, it was more of a wagon. But enclosed like a...” Her eyes popped open and she sat up straight. “Like a Black Maria.”
“A what?” The duke and others stared in confusion.
“A police wagon,” Rafe explained. He set aside his tea and stood up, an almost-palpable energy pouring out of him. “It’s a nickname in the United States for the vehicles they carry prisoners in. They’re painted black, and they’re made to keep prisoners from escaping. The doors in the back open from the outside only, and the windows are small, high and barred.”
Megan nodded. “Yes. That’s it. It was smaller than most I’ve seen, but I’m sure it had high barred windows.”
“No wonder some of the women thought they were the police,” Con commented. “But at least a vehicle like that should be easier to track.”
“What else can you remember?” The usual lazy drawl was missing from Rafe’s speech now, his words as hard and sharp as steel. He began to prowl around the room, reminding Lilah of a tiger in its cage. “Was it Kyria he was after? Con said he was dragging Kyria away.”
“I—I’m not sure,” Megan faltered. “When I first saw them, they were pulling Kyria and the duchess toward the wagon. Of course, they were all fighting them. I don’t know if they meant to take one or two or everybody.”
“It’s clear it was planned,” Reed said. “They had the prisoner wagon. They went straight for the Moreland women. They moved quickly.”
“That sort of demonstration was an excellent place to take them. People thought they were the police, so they hesitated to step forward and stop it.”
“One man stayed up on the wagon seat at first—I presume so they could get away quickly,” Megan said. “He didn’t get down until the women swarmed the first man. How could they think two men could take them all?”
“How could they think even three could?” Stephen spoke up. “There were four women—five counting you, and it would have been six if Anna had been there.”
“Perhaps they didn’t know the Moreland women well enough to realize they wouldn’t go easily,” Theo guessed. “They might have thought the ladies would be so shocked and frightened they w
ouldn’t struggle.”
“How did they take them?” Lilah, caught up in the conversation, jumped in. When the others turned to look at her, it occurred to her that she had crashed into the family discussion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just—how did they manage to fight five women and get four of them into the wagon so quickly?”
“True.” The duke frowned.
“Chloroform!” Megan popped to her feet. “The man holding Kyria had his hand over her face. I thought he was trying to muffle her screams, but I remember now, there was a handkerchief in his hand. She went limp almost immediately.”
“I’ll kill that sorry son of a bitch,” Rafe said in a low voice that was more frightening than a shout. He looked at the duke. “How long are we going to sit around here, yammering about it? I’m going after them.”
“How do you intend to do that? We’ve no idea where they went, and they’ve a long head start on us,” Reed said reasonably.
“I’ll find someone who’ll talk. Trust me, I can be very persuasive.”
“Rafe, wait.” Stephen stepped into his path.
“It’s the Dearborns,” Con said flatly.
“What?” Rafe swung around. “How do you know?”
“I don’t know. But who has a grudge against the Morelands? Who is in desperate need of money? Who likes to abduct people to get their way? The answer to each of those questions is Niles Dearborn.”
“I would have recognized the Dearborns,” Megan pointed out.
“They wouldn’t do it themselves. They hired someone.”
“It’s what they did with Alex,” Theo agreed.
“Then that’s my first stop,” Rafe said.
Everyone began again to talk at once.
“Quiet!” Thisbe’s husband, Desmond, jumped to his feet. He was normally such a quiet man that his outburst shocked all of them into silence. “We can’t go running off in all directions. We need to get organized. Maybe it’s the Dearborns and maybe it’s just some men hoping to make a profit. We need to be ready for all contingencies, including a ransom demand. We haven’t received one yet, but I would wager we will—no matter who took them. Let’s divide up. Rafe, you and Stephen go confront the Dearborns. Theo, Alex showed you where they held him. You and Reed make sure they don’t have Thisbe and the others there.” The men left immediately as Desmond went on, “The duke should stay here because he’ll be the one they ask for ransom. The same for Uncle Bellard because we need his brain.”
“And you, as well,” Con told him. “To keep us all straight.”
Desmond sighed, casting a glance at the duke, who was pale and shaken. “Yes. I’m afraid I must stay. Con, can you follow the kidnappers?”
“I intend to. That wagon Megan described will make it easier.”
“I’ll go with you.” Megan stood up.
“What?” Con whirled on her. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Are you saying that I’m not capable?” Megan’s chin thrust out. “That I’m too delicate?”
“I’m saying that Theo will have my head if I drag you around the city when you’re bloody, bruised and concussed.”
“That’s—it’s—”
“It’s smart,” Lilah said, rising to her feet. “Megan, you have been through enough today to fell anyone. You’re sore. You’re tired. You would slow Constantine down. Think of all the time and effort that would be wasted if you should lose consciousness again and he had to bring you back.”
Megan regarded her stonily for a moment. “Oh, hell...” She sank back down on the couch.
“Anna, too,” Lilah went on before Anna could speak. “You both need to recover.”
“Exactly.” Con turned toward the door.
“That’s why I am going to accompany you,” Lilah continued.
Con stopped abruptly. “No.”
“Why not? I trust you’re not going to say because I’m a woman.”
Megan snorted with laughter. “Yes, Con, why not? I think she should. Don’t you, Anna?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“After all—” Lilah plowed ahead “—as you said, I am logical, rational and right. It will be an excellent counterpoint to your qualities.”
Con glowered. “Blast it, Lilah, you’ll slow me down. What if we catch up with them? What if there’s a fight?”
“Then you’ll have someone to help you. I kept up with you when we went looking for Alex, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but...what about your aunt? Won’t she wonder what’s happened to you?”
“I can send my maid back to tell her I’ve been invited to stay for tea.”
“I’ll send her a note extending our invitation to you for dinner and the evening,” Anna offered. “Or, even better, Megan can. A marchioness is much more impressive.”
“There, you see? Think of the advantages if I go with you.” Lilah continued her list of reasons. “You’ll have another person to look for them, to question people. And—” Her face lit triumphantly. “If you find your mother and sisters and need reinforcements, you’ll have someone who can go for help while you keep watch to make sure they don’t escape.”
“Oh, for...” Con looked at Desmond.
“I agree.” Desmond shrugged. “It’s better if you have two people.”
“The devil.” Con looked back at Lilah. “Very well. You’re coming with me.”
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS A mistake to take her. Con knew it as soon as he said it. Lilah Holcutt never made anything easier. She would fuss; she would question; she would need looking after. But there was no way out of it now. Strangely, deep down it didn’t really bother him.
Con sent a footman to have one of their vehicles brought round, then walked over to Anna. Squatting down beside her, he said, “I need you to tell me everything you remember about your vision.”
Anna nodded. “I had a headache, so I was lying down. I dozed off, I think, because suddenly I woke up with a jolt. And I saw your mother and the others.”
“You saw them being taken?” He was a little surprised to see Lilah sit down beside Anna and take her hand.
Anna shook her head. “No. I didn’t realize that before. It wasn’t in London. It was in the country. There were no other houses around, but there were trees. I saw Thisbe and Olivia being pulled out of—of something. It was rather dark inside the vehicle.”
“A carriage?”
“I’m not sure. It was enclosed, but it opened in the back. It had a set of two doors, and they opened outward.” She demonstrated. “Two men were carrying the duchess and Kyria. They were very still. I wasn’t sure if they were asleep or—” Her voice caught.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” Con said soothingly. “Kyria was chloroformed. Probably Mother was, as well. The men want money for them. They wouldn’t risk killing them.”
She nodded. “Yes, you’re right. There was a third man, who had a gun aimed at Thisbe and Olivia. They were all walking somewhere.”
“Where? Could you see where they were?”
Anna shook her head. “There was a house, and I assume they were going there, but the vision ended before I could see them enter it.”
“What did it look like?”
“Two floors tall, but not a big house. Very plain. It was stone—a beige sort of color—or maybe just aged and dirty white stone. There was an outbuilding, a shed or small barn, off to one side. There was ivy growing up one wall. It—I had the impression nobody lived in the house.”
“Why?”
Anna shrugged. “I’m not sure. I... It looked untended. The smaller building was very weathered and leaned to one side. There wasn’t any garden. The ground was dirt and weeds and such.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh! And there was a shutter half-off one of the downstairs windows.”
“Did you have any idea what part of
the country it was in?”
“No. I’m sorry. I’m afraid this isn’t very helpful.”
“It is. Every scrap of information will help me. Was there anything more you saw? You said there were trees.”
“Yes, but not right next to the house. There was, um, a very large tree about twenty or thirty feet away. But in the distance I could see thicker trees. Like woods.” She paused, thinking. “Oh! Right next to the vehicle was a large stump, as if a big tree had been cut down in the past.”
“Good. That’s terrific, a great help.”
“I wish I could be of more use.”
“Don’t worry. This is good. I’ll be able to recognize the house.”
Con stood up and turned to Lilah, who had been watching their exchange with a baffled expression. No doubt she had decided both he and Anna belonged in an asylum. But to his surprise, Lilah said not a word.
Outside, the family’s elegant small town carriage awaited them. The coachman stood at the horses’ head, and he came toward Con now, saying, “They’re in fine fettle, sir. They’ll be wanting to move.”
“Don’t worry, Jenkins, I assure you I’ll take care of the team.”
“I’ve no doubt of that, sir.” The man smiled.
“You’re going to drive the carriage?” Lilah asked, staring.
“Yes.” His smile held a little challenge. “Perhaps you’d like to ride inside. Or you could—”
“I am not staying here,” Lilah replied crisply and went to the front of the carriage. “If you’d give me a hand up...”
Con simply took her by the waist and lifted her to the first step. Lilah grabbed the handhold and shot a dark look at him over her shoulder.
“The first step is rather high,” he pointed out.
“Yes, and I am rather tall.” Gripping the bar, she lifted her skirt with the other hand and climbed up to the coachman’s seat.
Con caught a glimpse of her stockings once again—an eye-searing yellow this time—and suppressed a smile as he scrambled up after her. The high seat was comfortable but, being built for one driver, it was not especially wide. Con could feel Lilah’s arm against his jacket, the side of her leg touching his.
