by Candace Camp
That was not a thing to be thinking of at a time like this. Taking the reins, Con started forward.
“Why are you driving the carriage?”
“Easier for me to follow that way.” He shrugged. “I have a better view, and I don’t have to yell to the coachman if I want to get down to look at something.”
“Then why the carriage? Wouldn’t a smaller vehicle be easier to handle?”
“I thought of taking my grandfather’s old phaeton, actually. It’d be more maneuverable, lighter. But it’s been some years since it’s been driven—Father couldn’t quite bring himself to get rid of it, but no one uses it anymore. It’s too easy to grab a hansom or a seat on the omnibus.”
“You travel by omnibus?”
“Sometimes.” He grinned at the astonishment on her face. “Too plebian, you think?”
“No. It just surprises me.”
“It’s more convenient in certain parts of town. More in character sometimes.”
“Such as when you’re dressed as a quack medicine salesman?” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Careful, you might actually grin.”
The blue eyes narrowed, and she snapped her head around to look forward again. Con felt a pang of regret. After a moment, he picked back up their earlier topic of conversation in a conciliatory tone. “The carriage is more useful, too. We’ll need to bring my mother and sisters back.”
She cast a quick sideways glance up at him. He suspected the words if we find them were on the tip of Lilah’s tongue, but she said nothing. They had reached the site of the abduction, and Con turned onto the street the kidnappers took. At the end of the block, he turned left and joined the jumble of traffic.
“Back there, at the house, how did Desmond know what to do? Who should go to the Dearborns and who should go to Alex’s prison and so on. Nobody objected or discussed it.”
“We know each other well. Rafe is the most intimidating. He’s not as large as Theo, but his eyes can get this look that chills one’s blood. Having lived through a bloody war, then making a fortune in the Wild West, he has little regard for the niceties of gentlemanly behavior. Especially when Kyria’s in danger. That’s why he would be better able to get information from the Dearborns. Stephen is his friend—they were partners in a silver mine after the American Civil War. They understand and trust each other. Stephen will make sure Rafe doesn’t get into trouble. Theo and Reed balance each other, as well. Reed’s the levelheaded one. Theo’s more one for action.”
“Then I really do serve as your counterbalance.” She shot him a sideways glance, and this time her smile won the battle.
Surprisingly, Con found he enjoyed having her along. Granted, Lilah questioned everything, but so far she had not been stuffy, and her conversation kept his mind off the worry gnawing inside him.
“Why were you chosen to follow the kidnappers?” Lilah asked.
“I’m better at that sort of thing. I can tell north from south. I’ve always been good at maps, and I’m familiar with the streets of London and the roads out of it. I’ve had experience, you see. That’s what my agency does—locate lost or stolen objects, missing people. Alex often makes that easier, of course, with his ability. But I’m the one who tracks down the leads and decides where to go.”
“I thought you investigated nonsensical things—ghosts and demons and whatnot.”
“Mmm. I’m especially fond of whatnots.” His words brought forth a laugh from her. “Sadly, though, there aren’t that many supernatural possibilities to investigate. So I’m forced to fall back on something useful and mundane.”
As they talked, Con had been weaving in and out of the heavy traffic, bypassing slower vehicles, but he also kept his eyes in motion, looking everywhere.
“What are we looking for?” Lilah asked.
“Any sign that a speeding vehicle might have gone this way.”
“Which would be?”
“I’m not sure, really.”
“That’s certainly informative.”
“I’m sorry. It’s hard to describe—you can see from the way people act, the way things look, if there’s been a disturbance. For instance, an angry seller whose cart has been overturned by a speeding vehicle. Or people talking excitedly. I don’t imagine I’ll find any, as it’s been a good while since they passed by. But I’m hoping my sisters will help me out.”
“What do you mean? They’re captives. What could they do?”
“They’re resourceful. I think they’ll try to draw people’s attention one way or another. Leave us a sign, perhaps.”
“But how can you be certain you’re on the right road? What if they’ve turned off?”
“I’m not certain. It’s my best guess. There’s no reason for them to twist and turn, trying to evade pursuers. No one was following them. They’d want to get to their target the fastest way possible, where they can secrete the women and get rid of or hide the vehicle. This is a major thoroughfare with a lot of vehicles. The more people, the more carriages and wagons, the less likely it is that anyone will notice or remember a certain one, even if it is uncommon. Also, eventually this street turns into the road to Tunbridge Wells. From what Anna said, the house they’re using is in a rural area.”
“Really, Constantine, don’t tell me you believe in visions foretelling the future.”
“Actually, in this case, it’s more the present than the future.” He glanced at her. “Why wouldn’t I believe it? Anna’s no liar. She wouldn’t mislead us, especially about something important.”
“I’m sure she isn’t lying or trying to mislead you. But it’s far more likely that Anna dreamed it. She had a headache, lay down and fell asleep, and she had a nightmare. Dreams seem very real sometimes.”
Con thought of a room with curving walls and clocks. “I know. But whether it came while she was asleep or awake, she saw that they were abducted. We know that was true. So it seems silly to ignore the rest of her vision.”
“But how could anyone ‘see’ something happening miles away?”
“I’ve witnessed stranger—”
“Con!” Lilah grabbed his arm.
“What?” A little jolt ran through him. “What’s the matter?” He glanced around.
“Stop. Stop. Look.” Lilah pointed to a woman walking down the street. “That’s Olivia’s.”
“What?” Con pulled back on the reins.
“That woman is wearing Olivia’s scarf!”
CHAPTER SIX
NOT WAITING FOR HIM, Lilah scrambled down from the high seat on the other side, setting her foot on the front wheel, then jumping to the ground. She hurried after the woman, and a moment later, Con caught up with her. “Are you certain?”
She gave him an impatient glance. “Olivia was wearing it the other day. I remember because I particularly liked it. Besides, look at that woman. Does she look like that scarf belongs to her?”
The woman’s clothes were worn and drab, her straw hat battered, but around her neck was draped a lovely red silk scarf.
“Ma’am.” Con broke into a trot. “Wait. Just a moment.”
The woman looked back over her shoulder and, seeing them, whirled around to run. She hadn’t gone three steps before Con pulled her to a stop.
“I din’t do nuffink. I din’t steal it. It’s mine.”
“Calm down. I’m not accusing you of anything.”
She tried to tug her arm from his grasp, clearly not believing him.
“Con, you’re scaring her.” Lilah laid a soothing hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We aren’t going to hurt you. All we want is information.”
“Yes, sorry.” Con eased his hold, though he did not release her. “I’m not trying to take your scarf from you. You can keep it. Just tell me where you got it.”
“I din’t steal it.”
“I beli
eve you. You found it, didn’t you?”
“’Twas just lying there. It din’t belong to nobody.”
“Where was it lying? Can you show me where you found it?”
She pointed back up the street. “Down there. It caught on the lamppost, see.”
“Excellent.” Con beamed and reached into his pocket for a coin. “Here’s something for your information.”
“Gor!” Her eyes widened as she snatched the coin from his hand. “Thankee, sir.”
“Now, tell me, did you see where the scarf came from? You said it caught on the lamppost. Did you see it land there?”
No longer reluctant, she started to answer, then sighed and admitted, “No. It was just there at the bottom of the post. Nell went for it, but I got there first. An’ we had a bit of scrap about it, an’ I won. I saw it ’fore she did.”
“How long ago was that? Since you found the scarf.”
“Oh. Well...” She wrinkled her forehead in thought. “A while. I went in to get a little tipple, you see, ’cause of my luck. And then, um, I went down to Annie’s to show her. A while.”
“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Con smiled and swept her an elegant bow, which made the woman giggle and bob a curtsy back to him. Obviously Con was an expert at charming any woman.
It took only a few minutes of questioning the shopkeepers along the street before Con found one who remembered the black vehicle.
“Oh, aye, I saw it. Ugly thing, don’t know why you’d want to paint your wagon black like that. Better something cheerful, I say. And why not a sign on it?”
“Did you hear anything?”
He looked puzzled. “It made a racket on the cobblestones, if that’s what you mean. So loud I couldn’t hear my customer. That’s why I noticed it.”
“How long ago was it?”
“Oh, some time now. An hour or two. Wait, I remember, it was just ’fore I ate. Around noon.”
Con’s eyes gleamed as he took Lilah’s arm, propelling her back to the carriage. She could almost feel the renewed energy and hope surging in him.
“I knew it!” he said as they started forward again. “I knew they would find a way to help me.”
“They’ll have to divest themselves of a lot of garments to leave a good trail.”
“There are four of them after all.” He tossed a grin at her.
“It was very smart to do that.”
“The family’s had some experience,” he said drily.
They kept a sharp eye on the street, hoping for another sign from the Moreland women. Every time they spied a possibility, Con would jump down to investigate, but none of the objects turned out to be anything belonging to Con’s sisters. The problem was that any piece of clothing dropped on the street was likely to be picked up before Lilah and Con could find it. And how long could the ladies keep tossing out clues before one of their captors caught them?
The traffic and houses thinned out, which at least made it more likely that a discarded item might not be picked up immediately. Con spotted the next item, a crumpled straw bonnet that he thought might belong to Thisbe. “It’s plain as she likes them.”
Con fretted about the time as they continued at their slow pace. The sun had been growing steadily lower. Lilah decided it was best not to ask what they would do after darkness fell. Next they found a woman’s jacket.
Lilah held it up, studying it. “It’s very stylish.”
“Kyria’s then.”
After a time, they came upon a handkerchief caught in a hedge. “Definitely Kyria’s.” Con spread it out on his knee. “See the monogram?”
Heartened by their finds, they pressed onward, passing fewer and fewer travelers. Whenever they came upon a slow cart or carriage, Con stopped to ask if the driver had seen the wagon they sought. One farm boy, walking placidly beside his ox-drawn cart, nodded, saying it had passed him not long out of the city.
“We’re falling farther and farther behind,” Con said grimly. “But I don’t dare go faster or we might miss one of their clues.”
After a while, Con stirred restlessly, looking around. “I’m not sure...”
“What is it?” Lilah half turned, putting her hand on his arm.
Con glanced at her, startled, and Lilah quickly withdrew her hand. “I think we may be going wrong.” He twisted around to look behind him. “It’s been a while since we’ve found anything.” He pulled to a stop. “We crossed a road back there.”
“You think we should have taken it?”
“I don’t know. But at some point, they’re going to turn off. I doubt that cottage is on the main road. And...this feels wrong.”
He turned the carriage, a cumbersome process, and headed back. When they reached the intersection, he turned left down the smaller road.
“Couldn’t they have turned the other way?”
“Yes. If they turned at all. I’ll try the other way next if—look.” A white petticoat lay in the muddy ditch. “They threw it out as soon as they turned. Clever girls.”
“We’re gathering quite a collection.”
“We’re getting closer, I think, but it’s taking too long.” He cast a look at the gathering twilight around them and increased the pace.
Lilah spotted a white handkerchief at the juncture of a smaller lane. “Do you think she meant to stay on this road or turn?”
“It’s ambiguous,” Con agreed. “She could have tossed it out from either direction and it floated back here. I’m going to take the turn. Megan said the windows were high. I don’t think they could see the road. They wouldn’t know that the road turned off until they felt the wagon do so.”
The overhang of trees turned the dusk into night. Lilah leaned forward, peering intently ahead. The carriage jarred as it passed over a rut, and she braced herself with a hand on Con’s leg. Embarrassed, she straightened up quickly, glancing at Con. But he appeared not to even notice the inappropriately familiar touch as he stared, eyes narrowed, at a hedge-lined path.
“I think...I’m going to try this lane.”
“It’s more a track than a lane. Why do you think this is the way to go? Did you see something?”
“Not really. It’s very nearly dark.”
Very nearly? Lilah could barely even make out that there was a path. It was even darker along the lane, with the high encroaching hedges on either side. “Why do you think it’s this way?”
“I’m not sure. This nearly hidden path made me think about what Anna said about it being secluded.”
There was no point in getting into another discussion about the unreliability of Anna’s “vision,” so Lilah kept silent. It was fully night now; the moon was rising. Fortunately it was a full moon. The hedges ended, and the lane curved around a tree. Lilah could make out a dark shape ahead of them.
The night was hushed, the only sound the plodding of the horses’ hooves and the carriage wheels turning, and even that was muffled by the dirt surface of the path. Neither Lilah nor Con spoke. The dark shape ahead resolved itself into a two-story cottage, a simple building of light-colored stone.
Lilah drew in her breath sharply, unconsciously grabbing Con’s arm. A shutter hung askew beside a window, and a large tree stood not far from the house. In the other direction, Lilah could make out a small structure of some sort. Con looked at Lilah, then pointed to a large tree stump a few feet ahead of them.
It was exactly as Anna had described. A shiver ran through Lilah.
If they needed further proof, a dark wagon stood near the stump, with a pair of tethered horses grazing nearby. Con climbed down and took his horses by the head, walking them around so that the carriage faced the opposite direction.
As Lilah joined him, he murmured in explanation, “In case we need to make a quick escape.”
“Then you plan to confront them?” she whispered back.
; “There were only three men.”
“And only one you,” she retorted. “That’s if they don’t have accomplices who’ve joined them.”
Con tilted his head, considering. “Still, I have the advantage of surprise, and my mother and sisters will help.” His grin gleamed in the darkness. “You should see my mother brandish a cricket bat.”
He reached up to pull the long carriage whip from its holder. “Unwieldy.” He unscrewed the handle from the long supple stick and leather lash, leaving him with a sturdy truncheon capped by an ornamental brass knob. He turned to her. “Stay here. If things go wrong, run. They won’t expect anyone else to be here.”
“I’m going with you.”
“What?” His eyebrows flew up. “You said you’d go for help if needed.”
“No. I said I could go for help.”
“Blast it!” he hissed. “You’ll get in my way. I’ll have to worry about protecting you. Stay. Here.”
“You said your mother and sisters would be a help to you.” Lilah grabbed the longer, narrow end of the whip that ended in a leather lash, and faced him defiantly. “Are you going to tell me I am less capable than they?”
“Not when you’ve got that whip in your hand.” Con started for the house. Lilah followed, her heart pounding. She stumbled over a root, nearly falling. Con swung around, and Lilah braced for a caustic remark, but to her surprise, he took her hand and leaned in to whisper, “Stay with me. I have good night vision.”
“Of course you do,” she replied waspishly, resenting the way the touch of his breath on her ear sent a shiver through her. This was no time to be thinking about things like that—or feeling that tremble of heat deep inside her.
Holding the front of her skirt off the ground with one hand, she went with him, surprised at how natural it was, how easy, to walk with him, shoulders almost touching, his fingers laced through hers. It made her feel faintly breathless—the warmth of him, the touch of his skin on hers—but somehow it steadied her, as well. She couldn’t count on him to be appropriate in a drawing room or ballroom, but here, in a situation like this, she trusted him completely.
