by Merry Farmer
Niall grinned, nestling closer against Blake and wedging his knee between Blake’s legs. “The theater is a wonderful world, really.”
“I would like to have some part in it,” Blake sighed. “It hasn’t seemed possible before now, but with you here, anything could happen.”
“Anything?” Niall arched one eyebrow.
“It’s not like I’ve put theater behind me entirely,” Blake went on. “Our play has lived forever in my heart. And a few years back, when a call went out from a theatrical troupe passing through Leeds, I donated several—”
He stopped short, his whole body tensing.
“What is it?” Niall lifted himself on one arm to look down at Blake.
Blake sat so fast that he nearly tossed Niall aside. His eyes went round. “I gave it away,” he said.
“Gave what away?” Suspicion grew in Niall’s gut.
Blake turned to him with a forlorn look. “The medallion. I remember now. I gave it away to the theater in Leeds. They were doing a production of Anthony and Cleopatra, and they needed Egyptian props, costumes, and set pieces. I let them come to the house to see what we had and take whatever they needed.” The dread in his eyes grew. “Niall, the medallion Ian wants is gone. It’s been gone for years.”
Niall sat up as well, hissing a curse. “What do we do?” he asked. “Do we go to Leeds to find it?”
“I….” Blake shoved a hand through his hair, shifting restlessly. “It was a traveling company. They formed in Leeds, but they had plans to travel all over England, Scotland, and Wales.”
“So the medallion could be anywhere,” Niall said, gut clenching.
“There is no possible way we’ll be able to give Ian what he wants.” Blake reached the same conclusion Niall had reached.
“He’ll have to hand over the children anyhow,” Niall insisted, resting a hand on Blake’s arm when he saw the signs of one of Blake’s anxiety spells coming over him. That didn’t seem to be enough to ward the attack off, so he drew Blake into his arms, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “We’ll think of something,” he insisted. “It’s been ten years. Ian probably doesn’t even remember what the medallion looks like. You have an entire room of Egyptian artifacts downstairs. I’m certain we can find something or fashion something that Ian will believe is the medallion he’s after.”
“I doubt it will work. Ian is too determined to ruin me,” Blake said, resting his head against the side of Niall’s for a moment.
“We’ll try anyhow,” Niall said. “We can…we can put the medallion in a box and say it’s for safekeeping. That could buy us the minutes we need to get the children away from him. Or we could find a way to send him and Annamarie a telegraph, asking for more time.”
Blake stiffened in Niall’s arms, wrenching back to stare at Niall, eyes wide. “There is no time,” he said, panic overtaking him again. “My God, why didn’t I put two and two together earlier?” He shoved a hand through his hair, then struggled away from Niall, climbing out of bed. “Lady Inglewood might have been drunk, but she tried to give us vital information, and we missed it.”
“Are you certain you’re not just flying into a panic over every little thing?” Niall climbed carefully out of the bed and shadowed Blake as he moved frantically toward his wardrobe as if he would dress again.
Blake shook his head. “Lady Fairport was under the impression that Annamarie had left for America.”
“Yes? So?” Niall frowned.
“So she was close with Annamarie,” Blake said, facing Niall with a grim look as he chose a clean suit from his wardrobe. “I would be willing to bet anything and everything I have that there’s a ship sailing from Liverpool to New York in three days or less, and that Ian has purchased tickets for himself, Annamarie, and the children. If they get on that ship—”
Niall stopped him by grabbing both his arms and staring hard into Blake’s eyes. “This is all speculation. You don’t know that any of this is true. All we know for certain is that Ian wants that damn medallion for some reason, that he wants Annamarie, but is willing to hand the children back over to you, and that he wants to destroy both of our reputations. Anything else is just speculation.”
“But can we truly risk assuming that?” Blake asked. “Can we assume Ian will be honest with us, that he’ll wait three days before taking off with Annamarie and the children, or that he hasn’t already formed plans to cheat us?”
Niall pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw. “No, we can’t,” he admitted. “But we can’t go flying off in the middle of the night either,” he said. “Come back to bed, try to sleep, and we’ll leave for Blackpool again first thing in the morning.”
“We can’t wait that long,” Blake said, desperation in his eyes. “They could be gone by then.”
“Remember what happened when we tried this before.” Niall rested a hand on the side of Blake’s face. “We had to take whatever trains we could find, and it took us longer to get there than if we had waited until morning. Come back to bed, think of something we can pass off as the medallion Ian is looking for, and we’ll return to Blackpool tomorrow. That’s still more than a day before Ian will be expecting us.”
Blake looked uncertain, but some of the fear drained from his eyes. “I just want them back,” he admitted at last. “I want us to be able to build a life together, as a family.”
The sentiment was as outlandish as it was adorable. Niall smiled in spite of himself, his heart warming at the utterly impossible idea. Blake was all but suggesting he transform into a second father to Blake’s children overnight. The idea that two men—one of them a famous playwright and the other a bloody duke—could raise three children in domestic bliss, without anyone lifting an eyebrow or the police being called in, was ludicrous.
And yet, he’d seen stranger things happen. Max Hillsboro, the son of a duke and a lord in his own right, had thrown his lot in with Stephen Siddel, and the two of them lived together, operating an orphanage for girls in Darlington Gardens, the new square in Earl’s Court that was almost entirely populated by members of The Brotherhood. Alistair Bevan was a viscount, and it was no secret in certain circles that he and his valet, Joe Logan, lived more or less openly as lovers. As long as they were excruciatingly careful, perhaps there was a way that he and Blake could form a happy family with Blake’s children. And Niall did like children. He’d just never in a hundred years imagined himself having any.
“I want that too,” he said at last, pulling Blake close and kissing him affectionately. “But there’s nothing we can do about it right this moment. Tomorrow.” He kissed Blake again. “Come back to bed. I’ll even let you fuck me silly, if that makes you feel better.”
Blake let out a weak laugh, smiling as the tension drained from him. “As much as that tempts me, I don’t think I could again tonight.”
“And neither could I,” Niall admitted, steering Blake back to bed. “We’ll just sleep. We’re going to need our strength tomorrow anyhow. We’re going after Ian, and he won’t know what’s coming for him.”
Chapter 20
Niall was a genius, and Blake didn’t know how he’d managed to stay afloat without him for so long. Or perhaps it was the simple fact that Blake could finally let go of the mountain of responsibility and fear and anxiety that he was naturally inclined to carry around with him and share that burden with his soulmate. Whatever it was, he miraculously managed to sleep for a few hours before waking in Niall’s arms.
Xavier helped them pack while Blake wrote out a bank draught for as much money as he could, sealing it in an envelope with instructions on how to contact his solicitor for the transfer of the rest of the money Ian had asked for. If Ian reneged on his end of the deal, they would contact Blake’s solicitor immediately, telling him to instruct the bank not to honor the draught. While he did that, Niall sifted through the Egyptian parlor until he found a necklace that was close enough to what he remembered the medallion looking like to pass and a box to put it in. Then Charles saw
them to the train station in Leeds before most of the rest of the household staff had made it above-stairs. Exactly as Niall had figured, they were able to purchase tickets for a train heading on a more direct route to Blackpool, although it did pass through Liverpool first.
“There’s a ship leaving for New York tomorrow,” Blake noted gravely as they searched for food in the station while waiting for the train to Blackpool. Several of the passenger lines departing out of Liverpool had their departure dates and times posted on boards that were decorated with enticing advertisements. The White Star line had a ship departing the next day, just after the time Ian had set for the exchange of the children for the medallion.
“Maybe Lady Fairport was right after all,” Niall said with a sigh as the two of them stood shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the board. “It’s a good thing we didn’t wait the full three days.”
Knowing Ian might very well have planned to steal away to America the moment the handoff was supposed to take place made Blake extraordinarily anxious as they traveled the final leg of the journey to Blackpool. Once they reached the seaside town, they took a room in a different hotel than they’d stayed in days before, just to be safe, dropped their things, then headed for Shell Cottage.
The moment they neared the cottage, Blake’s high hopes crashed. He could see at once they were too late, in spite of their best efforts.
“It’s abandoned,” he said, pausing just inside the garden gate as his heart raced and his knees threatened to give out.
Indeed, the curtains were pulled shut in every window of the cottage that they could see, even though it was a rainy day and keeping them open would let in much-needed light. They walked around the side of the house and on to the back, where the garden met the beach, but everything was desperately quiet. The steady roar of the waves combined with the patter of rain on the cottage’s roof and the cry of sea birds only added to Blake’s sense of hopelessness.
“We’re too late,” he said, as they rounded the cottage to the front again.
“Maybe not,” Niall said with a frown, marching up to the door. He banged on it, then stood back, waiting for someone to open up.
No one came. Not when Niall knocked again, and not when they went to peer into as many windows as they could reach. The house was empty.
“I knew we shouldn’t have left the children the other day,” Blake hissed, cursing himself. He sucked in a breath that turned into a sob. “It’s all my fault.”
“It is not your fault.” Niall raised his voice slightly, glaring at Blake, but Blake could tell it was Ian he was angry with, not him. Niall paused for a moment before charging out to the road. “We’ll go back to the Archibalds’ house. Ian’s mother was there before, and even if she isn’t there now, one of the servants might know where Ian and Annamarie have gone.”
“What if they’re in Liverpool already?” Blake asked, heart pounding, as they strode along the main road that skirted the beach on their way to the Archibalds’ house.
“Then we’ll go back to Liverpool,” Niall said, bursting with determination. “We’ll plant ourselves on the dock where that ship is departing, if we have to. The one thing we won’t do is let Ian and Annamarie board a ship with your children.”
The situation was beyond desperate, but Blake found himself smiling and his heart warming all the same. His title and the expectations it brought with it be damned, he would follow Niall to the ends of the earth—or at the very least, London—just to stay by his side. Plans for relocating his life already filled his head, calming and pushing aside his panic and instilling him with a confidence that might not have been founded, but was certainly encompassing.
Niall marched straight up to the Archibalds’ house and pounded on their door once they were there as though he were a king and not just a playwright. “Lady Archibald,” he demanded. “We must speak with you at once.”
Footsteps sounded behind the door almost immediately, and within seconds, a frightened-looking maid opened the door.
“We’re here to speak with Lady Archibald,” Blake said, stepping up in an effort to show he was as strong and powerful as Niall. “Better yet, we’d like to speak to Ian Archibald or Lady Selby, if they’re here.”
Eyes wide, without saying a word, the maid pulled back into the house. She wasn’t fast enough to slam the door on them. Blake stuck his foot in to stop her, and when she ran off into the house, he and Niall marched into the front hallway.
“How dare you barge into my home like this?” an older man that must have been Sir Richard Archibald—though he’d aged considerably since the one time Blake had laid eyes on him, at graduation—demanded from a chair in the parlor just off the front hallway. “Essie, what is the meaning of this?”
Before Blake could turn to address the man, Lady Archibald came charging up the hallway from a room in the back. “They aren’t here,” she said, looking both angry and afraid of what Blake and Niall might do.
“Where are they?” Blake demanded. “Where are my children?”
“I want no more part of this,” Lady Archibald replied with startling force. “Ian is my son, but this is going too far.”
“Is he here?” Niall asked, standing close by Blake’s side.
“No, he is not,” Lady Archibald said, glaring at him.
“Then where is he?” Niall asked on.
Lady Archibald pursed her lips and balled her hands into fists at her sides. “I will not tell you where he is, but it is not far. I’ve no doubt you would do him harm if you were able to reach him, and I would like the first go at wringing his neck.”
“Please. All I want is my children back,” Blake pleaded with her. “Do you know if they’re safe?”
“They are,” Lady Archibald said. Before Blake could go on, she said, “I will send him a message immediately, demanding that he contact you wherever you are staying.”
“We are at the King’s Arms,” Niall said.
“Then I will tell him to go to you there to finish this sordid business.” Blake opened his mouth, but Lady Archibald continued over him with, “Now leave at once, before I change my mind.”
Blake looked to Niall to make the decision. Niall stared hard at Lady Archibald for a moment before letting out a heavy breath and nodding to Blake.
As soon as they were outside and had made it to the street corner, Niall paused, hunching his shoulders against the rain and turning back to watch the house.
“Do we wait here?” Blake asked. “Like last time?”
Niall’s face pinched. “They must have another way of leaving the house so as not to be observed,” he said. “That could be how they avoided being discovered last time.”
“Then we’ve no choice but to wait at the hotel.” Blake scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a growl of frustration. He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning in his haste to leave Selby Manor, and a thick growth of stubble covered the lower half of his face.
Niall heaved a sigh and nodded, and the two of them started back to the hotel.
They barely had time to bathe and change into dry clothes when a note was pushed under their door. Blake lunged for it, tearing it open, while Niall leapt out into the hall.
“Who gave you that letter?” Blake heard him ask someone in the hall while he pulled a short letter out of the envelope.
“A maid, sir,” the young voice of one of the hotel’s porters answered. “I don’t know who she were.”
Blake didn’t hear whether Niall and the lad had any further exchange. He scanned the letter, his heart in his throat. “You know what I want and I know what you want. Bring the medallion and a bank draught to Shell Cottage immediately, and the children will be returned to you.”
Niall walked up behind him to read the letter over Blake’s shoulder. “He must have thought we would send the police to Shell Cottage to get the children back. That’s why they weren’t there.”
“They’re there now,” Blake growled.
Niall made a sound of agreemen
t. “We’ll go back. Now.”
“But we have to be careful.” Blake folded the letter, but didn’t bother shoving it back in its envelope as he marched to his suitcase to fish out the bank draught and instructions. “He’s likely already put something in place to double cross us.”
“I believe you’re right,” Niall said grimly. “So we’d best tread carefully.”
They bundled up in their already wet coats and headed out into the rain again. Night was falling, which, combined with the rain, lent an aura of gloom and desperation to the evening. Shell Cottage didn’t look any less abandoned when they reached it, but at least there was a thin trail of smoke coming from one of the chimneys when there hadn’t been earlier. In addition to that, a plain, black carriage was parked in front of the garden gate.
“That’s them,” Niall said, equal parts relief and anger as he picked up his pace and approached the carriage.
Before they could come within twenty feet of it, the carriage door opened and Ian stepped out. “The medallion and the money, if you please,” he said without introduction.
Blake took the envelope with the bank draught and the box with the fake medallion from his coat pocket and held them up, but said, “Give me my children first.”
Ian scowled, shifting restlessly. “They’re in the house.”
Blake nodded and stepped forward to hand him the envelope and the box, but Niall thrust out a hand to hold him back. “Prove it,” Niall said.
Ian snorted, but his shoulders bunched anxiously. “You think I’m lying? That I’d go back on my deal?”
“Yes,” Niall said.
“He’s not lying.” Annamarie scooted to the carriage door, but rather than climbing down, she stood, hesitating as her traveling dress filled the doorway. She picked at her skirts and grimaced up at the rainy sky, as if loath to ruin her clothes.
“Forgive me if we don’t believe you,” Niall told her.
