Into her other pocket, Ariel placed the unusually small pistol that her father had had made for her for just such a purpose as this. Not that her father had precisely anticipated his daughter meeting with a gentleman and slipping into the museum after hours when there might be killers about. But he had had it made for Ariel so that wherever she went, she would have a measure of protection for whatever circumstances in which she might find herself. How odd to think that England might turn out to be more dangerous than the other places for which both the pistol and the dagger had been intended!
At five minutes to the appointed time, Mrs. Merri- weather’s maid scratched on the door and then, as promised, showed her the back way out of the house, and soon she was in the carriage heading for the museum.
Marian had a horrible headache and it was growing worse by the moment. She wished only to return to Lady Merriweather’s house. Perhaps she ought not to have had that last glass of champagne. She could not even recall who had offered some to Lady Merriweather and to her when they would have made good their escape a short time before.
But now she was determined. “Lady Merriweather, it really is growing late,” she said. “Could we please leave?”
“Indeed, yes!” Lady Merriweather exclaimed. “I have the headache and wish for nothing more than to seek my bed. It was most foolish of you to insist that we come tonight. We are both of us too old for such nonsense.”
There were amused glances at this exchange, but Marian was feeling far too cross to care. Instead, she accepted the offered assistance of a couple of the gentlemen to clear a path to the door for them, for there were still so many people in the ballroom that it was hard to move about.
Soon enough, though it felt as if it took forever, Lady and Mrs. Merriweather were handed in to Lady Merri- weather’s carriage and a rug tucked snugly over their laps. Neither lady took any note of the coachman, which was a mistake. Instead, the footman spoke briefly to the coachman, and soon the horses were moving quickly through the now deserted streets.
Marian could not have said what made her suddenly think something was wrong with the route the coachman was taking. She could not tell, in the darkness, after all, precisely by what streets they were going. Nor did she know which Lady Merriweather’s coachman would normally have preferred. At first, she shrugged it all off as nothing with which they ought to concern themselves.
But Marian grew more and more uneasy as she realized that she was far more ill than should have been accounted for by the amount of champagne she had drunk during the evening. It was not the first time, after all, that she had been drugged, and when she realized the truth of the matter, she wondered why it had taken her as long as it did to recognize what was happening. And why she had not thought to take a closer look at the coachman before they climbed into the carriage.
Marian patted her pocket, grateful for the pistol there, and for the knife she had secreted on her person, for it looked as if she might very well need one or both of them. Her last thoughts, as she slipped into unconsciousness, was that the colonel would roast her unmercifully for this and that she was growing far too careless these days.
Neither lady was awake to notice when the carriage finally halted and strong hands lifted the pair of them out and into the museum.
Captain Stanfield sighed. The evening had proven even more tedious than usual and he could not say that he had learned anything of use. How soon would Kinkaid leave? he wondered.
At least Mrs. Merriweather and Lady Merriweather were already gone. That was one less concern for William, for it had been an understood thing between him and the colonel that he would keep an eye upon the colonel’s wife and see that she came to no harm. Still, he wished their quarry would make a move. Not that he was so certain, after tonight, that Kinkaid was the man they were seeking.
William felt a twinge in his injured arm and frowned. The last thing he needed was for his arm to truly become incapacitated. The sling was supposed to serve as a disguise, nothing more. And the old wound flared up rarely. It was most annoying that it should choose this moment to do so.
There! Kinkaid was moving toward the door. Stanfield followed at a discreet distance, careful to speak to people as he went so that his destination would not be so obvious. The trouble was that once you spoke to a lady, or a gentleman, it was deucedly hard to get away.
For a moment, when he reached the door, Stanfield feared that he had taken too long and that Kinkaid was already on his way. But almost as though he had been waiting for William, he stood across the street from the Duchess of Berenford’s town house, watching carriages draw up to the door to take up their passengers and deliver them safely home.
That circumstance gave Stanfield pause. His impulse, a foolish one he knew, was to cross the street and confront Kinkaid. But before he could decide precisely how to proceed, a small boy ran up to William, asked if he was Captain Stanfield, and when he said that he was, thrust a piece of parchment into his hand, folded shut.
He unfolded it and realized it was from Miss Hawthorne asking him to meet her at the museum. The words sent a cold chill through William. What the devil was she doing going there at this time of night? Without a second thought, he abandoned his intent to follow Kinkaid and headed for the museum as quickly as he could. He hoped he was not too late, for the hour she mentioned was almost upon them. He wanted, he hoped, to arrive before Miss Hawthorne, and prevent her from ever entering that building. He never even noticed that Kinkaid began to follow him.
21
Lady Merriweather moaned. Marian wished she could kick her to be quiet, for in the darkness they had no way of knowing how close at hand their captors might be. They were somewhere in the museum; Marian was certain of it. And the fact that they were not bound and gagged, rather than cheering her, seemed to be a particularly bad sign. It meant, she thought, that whoever had brought them here had been certain they could find no means to escape.
Marian silently scolded herself for being so foolish as to be caught off guard in such a way. Even when she had surreptitiously disposed of the glass of champagne that Kinkaid had brought her, it was simply a precaution. She had all but decided he was not the villain, after all. Was she mistaken? Had he seen her dispose of the glass and arranged for another, or was she right that there was a different villain altogether?
Either way, she ought to have noticed that there was an odd taste to the champagne she drank later. Marian cudgeled her brains to recall who had handed that glass to her. The difficulty was that it had passed through many hands before finally being placed in her own. Nor could she recall who had first made the suggestion that they should all drink a toast, or even what the pretext had been.
Well, there was no point in wasting time. She had to get both herself and Lady Merriweather out of here before their captors returned. Marian tried to rise to her feet. That was when she realized that while her hands and mouth might have been left free, her ankles were tied to each other, and when she tried to move both feet together she found that they had also been tied to something immovable in the room. At the same moment, Marian discovered that someone had taken both her knife and her pistol from her.
Carefully, she reached down and tried to feel for what it was that circled her ankles and to what object it was attached. It was a rope, by the feel of it. Whatever it was tied to was out of her reach. Marian tugged at the rope, hoping that it might pull free, but it did not. Well, she thought, she would just have to try to untie the blasted thing!
Lady Merriweather apparently realized her situation at just that moment, for she began to complain in a loud, angry voice. “Where am I? Marian, are you here?”
“Yes, Lady Merriweather.”
“Well, where are we and what are we doing here and why are we here? Who tied my ankles together? Untie them at once! I will not stand for such treatment!”
“I shall untie your ankles as soon as I have managed to untie mine,” Marian replied calmly.
Apparently her calm infuriate
d Lady Merriweather, for she began to complain again. “Why aren’t you shouting for help, then? We cannot stay here. We simply cannot! Are you not done yet? Oh, for heaven’s sake, I suppose I must try to untie my ankles myself! This is your fault, you know.”
“Mine?” Marian echoed, taken aback.
“It must be yours! No one could possibly wish me ill or think they had a right to kidnap me and tie me up! They must have been angry with you. I knew no good would come of my nephew marrying a former governess. I knew no good would come of his bringing you to London! I shan’t forgive you, Marian, if anything happens to either of us.”
Mrs. Merriweather wanted to say a great many things. There were also a few things she might have liked to do to her husband’s aunt, if she weren’t a lady. Her main fear, however, was that Lady Merriweather’s loud complaints would draw their kidnappers to them before she had managed to free her ankles and get them both out of there. She took in a breath to say so but didn’t have the chance.
A large man, clad in dark clothing, suddenly stood before them. He held a lantern that cast very little light, and Marian thought that it looked remarkably like the sort that smugglers used. That is to say, there was a way to hide or shield the light until it was needed, without the lantern being extinguished completely. He wore a hood over his head, as did the men beside him. She wondered how long the villains had been standing there listening to them.
Lady Merriweather was no more pleased to see these fellows than Marian, but she seemed to think she could order them about as if they were her footmen.
“You, there! Untie our ankles at once!” Lady Merri- weather commanded. “My cousin is a magistrate, and you will be very sorry if you don’t!”
The man merely stood there. Lady Merriweather gasped in fury and began to ring a peal over his head. “This is an outrage, an outrage! How dare you treat me like this? I am a lady! We are both ladies! You have no right to treat us like this! Untie us at once! I will not tolerate such treatment. Do you realize that my gloves must be absolutely filthy? I doubt they shall ever come clean. I shall expect you to pay for another pair!” Abruptly, the leader decided he had had enough. “If you want to live another fifteen minutes, my lady,” he said in a voice that was dangerously quiet, “I suggest that you cease speaking at once!”
To Marian’s astonishment, Lady Merriweather did so. But then, perhaps it was the shock of hearing a cultured voice, the voice of a gentleman, when Lady Merriweather must have been expecting an ordinary thief from the streets, that stopped her. A moment’s reflection ought to
have prepared her, but then Lady Merriweather was not given to reflection. And she was silent only for a moment.
“You are a gentleman,” she said with great indignation.
He bowed. The hood he wore, however, muffled his voice as well as covered his face, so that neither Marian nor Lady Merriweather could possibly guess who he might be. “I am desolated to distress you,” he said, with more than a trace of amusement in his voice, “but how did you think I managed to drug the both of you at the Duchess of Berenford’s ball, if I were not in attendance as a gentleman?”
“You could have been a footman or other servant helping to serve the food and drink,” Marian snapped, her own temper beginning to fray.
He bowed to her this time. “True.” His voice was almost a caress as he added, “I knew you would see the possibilities better than she could. It is a very great pity that you chose to interfere with my . . . enterprise. I might otherwise have been able to admire your intelligence and determination to have what you desire.”
“And what is that?” Marian asked, thinking to buy time and to discover more about their captor. After all, Colonel Merriweather must be here somewhere. If they were indeed in the museum, as she thought.
He laughed, a chillingly amiable laugh coming from a man who held them both captive. “Why, Mrs. Merriweather, obviously you desire respectability and acceptance among the ton, despite your years as a governess. And not one who was a shy and retiring creature either, I understand. One who was known as a tyrant in the households where she was employed There are not many ladies who could manage such a feat. As I said, I admire your determination and ability to achieve what you desire. You married to advantage, and you carry off your new role with the same skill that you carried off the old one.”
Marian held her breath. This man knew a great deal
about her, far too much for her comfort. Was this Kinkaid? He had, after all, known enough to call her Miss Tibbles at the ball. And yet, she did not think so. Whoever he was, it disturbed her that he knew so much. Even though he had said no more than anyone could easily have found out, it showed that someone had taken the trouble to ask. It showed that someone had known she would be his enemy. How much more did he know? She worried that it might very well be too much.
Beside her, Lady Merriweather once more took up her lament. “I told you it was your fault, Marian! I told you it was because of your unbecoming behavior and pursuits that we were in this ridiculous position! Now what do you have to say for yourself? And you, sir, you are behaving in the most ungentlemanly manner imaginable! What will your mother say when she learns you have behaved so disgracefully toward two helpless ladies? I expect you to release us and apologize at once!”
“Quiet!” the fellow snarled. He moved closer to Lady Merriweather, causing her to lean back in alarm. “You are alive only because of my admittedly grudging respect for Mrs. Merriweather. And because I believe she has information that could cause . . . difficulties for me—and because I believe that a note sent to her husband will bring him here straightway, as well. I have no interest or use for you. Unless, of course, you wish me to question you, instead? No? Then I should think twice about abusing her. You stay alive only so long as she does.”
Lady Merriweather fell silent, thoroughly cowed, it seemed, by the fellow’s unexpected anger. He turned again to Marian, and she felt a sinking sensation. So he meant to lure Andrew here? Because he thought they knew something? But what? What was it he thought they knew, and why was he so sure that they did? Was it Kinkaid? But even muffled as his voice was, Mrs. Merriweather did not think that was who stood before her. He was talking again, and she tried to focus on what he was saying, but it was difficult when her head ached so abominably!
“I am sorry to have to bring you here, Mrs. Merri- weather. Even sorrier for what I shall have to do later. But such is life. I am glad, however, to have had the chance to tell you what worthy opponents I consider you and your husband to be. And now, if you will tell me what it is you and the colonel have discovered, I shall not need to cause more pain to either of you ladies than is absolutely necessary.”
Marian groaned, as though her head ached even worse than it did. And as though she felt she might pass out at any moment. She let herself sway against Lady Merri- weather, and she slurred her words as she replied. “I . . . No one . . . Andrew?”
The man gave a snort of disgust. “Very pretty acting, Mrs. Merriweather! A pity I don’t believe you. But as you choose. I shall be back shortly to ask again. By then,” he said to Lady Merriweather, “you had best hope she is ready to answer me, or perhaps I shall begin with you, after all.”
He bowed a final time and then retreated with the others into the darkness, his lantern once more shielded. Marian felt both relief and dismay. He was giving them a short reprieve, no doubt to increase their fear of what he might do, but they could not count on it lasting long. They had to get free, and do so as quickly as possible!
Marian had to fight a sense of growing panic as she tried futilely to undo the rope at her ankles. She was close to an unaccustomed bout of tears when abruptly Lady Merriweather’s voice came from beside her, low and calm.
“Here, my dear. Would you like a knife?”
The streets near the museum were deserted. There was no moon tonight, and Ariel found herself grateful for the darkness. The coachman had followed her orders and halted some two or three streets away from
her true destination. She opened the door of the hackney and 185
looked up and down the street. Had there been anyone about, she might have risked asking the coachman to drive her straight to the door, gauging the danger from men on the street to be greater than that of being so visible arriving there.
But since the streets were deserted, she decided to risk going the final distance on foot. She paid the driver and began to step out.
He hesitated. “I mislike this, miss,” he said. “I mislike setting you ’ere when there’s no one about.”
“I shall be fine,” she promised. “But I should like you to wait here until I return. I shall be generous, if you will. Here is half now, and there is just as much again if you are waiting when I return.”
The man hesitated a moment more, then nodded. Not for the likes of him to judge the madness of his betters! Still, he didn’t like it. Didn’t like it one bit. He couldn’t help worrying what he would do if his daughter ever took such a dangerous start.
But Ariel was already in the shadows, and when he looked one last time to see how she was, he thought she must have vanished into the nearest building and he felt a sense of relief. Perhaps she would be all right, after all.
Ariel continued to hug the shadows as she made her way to the museum. She did so instinctively, not knowing that it was what Stanfield or the colonel would have recommended had she been able to ask them. She also held in one hand the keys to the museum, so that she could enter quickly once Captain Stanfield arrived, and so that they would not jangle in her pocket or her reticule. Her other hand was securely clamped around the dagger in her pocket. She was not, she vowed, going to find herself in the helpless position so many foolish young ladies did in the novels in Lady Merri- weather’s library!
Miss Tibbles Interferes Page 18
