by Darcy Burke
The bastard was right. Aldridge was a massive threat. Though Daniel had stationed a Bow Street constable on Hertford Street, it wasn’t enough. He needed to get to her posthaste.
AFTER taking a quick, restorative bath and dressing for the Pellinghams’ dinner party, Jocelyn floated down the stairs. Gertrude was awaiting her in the sitting room off the foyer. Her head encased in an orange turban and her still-slender form draped in a matching gown, Gertrude looked every bit the Society matriarch she was. Widowed these past twenty years and childless to boot, she took great pleasure in visiting London for the Season, and Jocelyn was only too glad she’d had the privilege to serve as her companion this year.
“Good evening, dear,” Gertrude said with an assessing perusal. “You look lovely this evening. That color is very becoming on you, even if it’s not wholly appropriate.”
Jocelyn knew a scarlet gown was risky, but she’d loved this fabric so much when she’d seen it on Bond Street two years ago that she’d used almost all of her pin money at the time to purchase it on the spot. She’d finally had it made into a gown last month when she’d learned she would be accompanying Gertrude to town, but she hadn’t had the courage—or necessity—to wear it until now.
Now that she was no longer attached to the wall. She could scarcely wait for Daniel to see her.
Gertrude tapped her lip. “But it’s not the gown. I daresay there’s something else behind the sparkle in your eyes and the bounce in your step. Moss said Lord Carlyle took you for a drive in the park today.”
She could at least share with Gertrude one part of the day’s events. In fact, she was fairly bursting with it. “Lord Carlyle has asked me to marry him.”
Gertrude’s sherry-colored eyes widened as her mouth broke into an ecstatic grin. “Goodness, so soon? You’ve only just met.”
“I know, it happened rather quickly, I think. But I love him and he loves me.” He hadn’t said so, but neither had she. And since she knew she was in love with him, it had to be that he felt the same.
Didn’t it?
A niggling sense of doubt wandered the recesses of her mind, looking for a place to root and grow, but she shoved it away. She believed in Daniel and their future together.
Gertrude smiled broadly. “Then I am beyond delighted for you, my dear! Whatever will my great-nephew say?”
He’ll be happy to have his ward taken care of, Jocelyn thought. It wasn’t that he found her a burden, but she knew her guardian would be relieved she was settled. As would any parental figure.
Papa.
Her heart clenched as she thought of how happy her father would be to see her not only marrying a viscount, but marrying for love, as he had done. She hoped he was looking down on her and seeing every happy moment. Well, perhaps not every moment.
“Daniel is going to write to Arthur immediately so that the banns may be posted this Sunday.”
Gertrude’s head bobbed. “Wonderful. Where will you marry?”
They’d discussed the wedding on the ride from Carlyle House. “We decided on Carlyle Hall, since it’s to be our home.”
There was a knock at the door, followed by Moss’s footsteps across the entry hall. Jocelyn wondered if Daniel had returned for some reason. He’d already had flowers delivered. Perhaps he’d sent something else. Expectantly she turned, and the smile blooming on her face died.
A tall, slim man with mangy blond hair filled the doorway of the sitting room. He grinned, revealing a missing tooth in the upper right side of his mouth. “Evenin’, ladies.”
Sounds of a scuffle filled the foyer and spilled into the sitting room. Hearing Moss’s muffled protests, Jocelyn’s heart leapt into her throat. She moved forward. The tall intruder held up his hand. “Stay right here.”
Jocelyn’s heard pounded. The man’s eyes were a bright, piercing blue. Could he be Nicky Blue? Her gaze dropped to his hand and there, in his grip, was the knife she’d found in her bedchamber.
He followed her line of sight and held up the blade. “I must thank you for returnin’ this, love. I was pretty upset when it went missin’.”
Had Daniel given it back to him? When? How? Most importantly, why?
A trio of men dashed past the sitting room doorway. They were trailed by another trio carrying a thrashing Moss. Good for him for not going down without a fight. She meant to do the same. But oh, how her heart ached for Moss and the others going through this again. Though anguish tore at her insides, she elevated her chin and stared frigidly at Nicky Blue.
Beside her, Gertrude began to shake. “Oh, my dear lord! What are you going to do?” Her voice came out as a high-pitched squeak.
It was one thing to terrorize the servants, but an old woman? Jocelyn took her hand in a fierce grip. She spoke in a low tone close to the woman’s ear. “We’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Nicky Blue jabbed a thumb toward Gertrude. “She’ll be fine. You? We’ll just have to wait an’ see.” He laughed then, a horrid sound that had little to do with amusement and everything to do with intimidation. Or perhaps he was amused by their intimidation.
Though fear spiked through her, Jocelyn refused to be cowed. She put her arm around Gertrude, drawing her close. The older woman was quivering. Jocelyn wanted to beat Nicky Blue into the floorboards for causing her such distress. She settled for stating the obvious. “You’re a horrible person.”
“Oh, I’m not all that bad.” He sauntered forward and leered at her. “Mayhap I’ll show ye later on.”
Gertrude gasped. “You can’t talk to her like that!”
Nicky Blue directed a malevolent stare at Gertrude. “I can do whatever I wish. Mayhap I’ll change my mind about ye bein’ fine.”
Jocelyn stepped in front of Gertrude. “Leave her alone.”
Two men stomped into the sitting room and came toward them. Jocelyn put her arms back in a protective stance in an effort to block them from Gertrude.
Nicky Blue reached forward and pulled Jocelyn out of the way by her upper arm. “Time to go.”
The other men grabbed Gertrude.
Jocelyn struggled against Nicky’s grip, sending her elbows and feet flying in every direction trying to hit him. “Don’t hurt her!”
Gertrude turned a ghastly shade of white as they hauled her from the room. Tears burned Jocelyn’s eyes as she watched, helpless.
Nicky wrapped her in a tight hug, pinning her arms to her sides, and dragged her forward.
She tried to dig her feet into the floor. “Where are you taking me? Why are you even here?”
“Just doin’ my job, love.” He turned her around, and his stale breath fanned her face. “And I do love my job.”
Jocelyn’s grip on reality snapped. She spat in his face and slammed her foot down on his. Then she shoved at his chest. Shocked, he released her and fell back. She spun on her heel, intending to get to the scullery to help Gertrude and the others. But his hand snaked around her waist. She kicked back at him and screamed, hoping a neighbor might hear the disturbance.
He grunted as she connected with some part of him, but he didn’t let her go this time. His grip tightened on her waist, bruising her. Then he wound his other hand in the hair pinned atop her head and pulled her backward. Her scalp and eyes burned as he forced her head back so she had to look up at him.
“Stop. Now. Or I’ll make ye sorry ye didn’t.” The leer was back, and this time he added the perversion of licking his lower lip and staring at her breasts. His meaning was quite clear. Still, she couldn’t give up. She swung her arms to hit him, and he pulled her hair even harder. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes and trailed back along her temples.
“Ye’re a right bitch, aren’t ye? If ye don’t stop, I’ll make sure yer precious old lady doesn’t see the mornin’ light.”
That did it. Jocelyn went limp. It was one thing to threaten her, but another matter entirely to cause harm to Gertrude. “You’re a monster,” she breathed.
“Ready?” The query came from the foyer
.
“Just about.” He turned her so that her chest was against his, and he pushed her head up. For a moment she was petrified he was going to kiss her. Nausea crept up her throat, but she swallowed against the sensation. Tossing up her accounts all over him would only mean trouble for Gertrude.
“Now,” he said menacingly, his eyes boring into hers, “come along quietly or we’ll march right down to the scullery and make a mess. Nod if ye understand.”
She nodded, hope dying in her breast. Who would even know something had happened? When they didn’t appear at the Pellinghams’ tonight, Daniel would certainly come calling, but by then it may be too late. Wait, the Bow Street Runner outside! How had the men gotten past him? Her stomach knotted. Had they done something unthinkable to him?
They moved through the foyer. Though she went along with them for Gertrude’s sake, he kept a tight grip on her elbow. She was certain he could snap it in two if he chose.
Outside, she quickly scanned for the Runner who typically walked up and down Hertford Street. On occasion, he turned up Park Lane and came back. She didn’t see him anywhere.
“Lookin’ for yer Runner?” Nicky asked right next to her ear. “He’s busy with an accident on Park Lane. Too bad for ye.” He cackled as he had earlier, the sound eliciting a shudder through Jocelyn’s frame.
And then she was thrust into a hackney coach. Thick curtains blocked the windows, but a small lantern hanging inside illuminated the space.
Nicky and one of the other men climbed inside with her, while the others clambered up top. The coach moved forward in the direction of Park Lane.
“Where are we going?” she asked with a serenity she didn’t feel. She had to stay calm if she had any hope of making it through the night.
The lantern cast sinister shadows over his long face. “Someplace special that I like.”
God, was he abducting her simply to have his way with her? Her stomach turned, and nausea threatened once more. “Why are you taking me? I don’t understand.” She hoped she didn’t understand, but was afraid she did.
He shrugged. “Ye’ll have to ask yer Lord Carlyle.”
Daniel was behind this? A hollow ache in her chest replaced her nausea. She couldn’t believe it, not after everything they’d been through. He’d been nothing but forthright and honest, sharing with her his most private thoughts, his deepest regrets, and his fondest desires. He wouldn’t do this.
Aldridge’s warning came back to her: I’d also advise you not to mention what I told you to anyone, especially Carlyle. Those who have suggested his behavior is less than lawful have sometimes disappeared.
Though her heart told her it couldn’t be true, her mind said she’d already disappeared.
Chapter Twelve
THE RIDE to Hertford Street seemed to take a fortnight. By the time Daniel finally arrived, he’d almost convinced himself he was being foolish.
Almost.
He took the steps two at a time and rapped sharply on the door. When no answer was forthcoming, his apprehension vaulted into full panic. He threw open the door and surveyed the empty foyer. He peered into the sitting room, but naught was amiss.
Withdrawing his blade from the sheath in his boot, he crept along the corridor to the back of the house and the stairway leading down to the scullery. He hoped to God that Moss would pop out at any moment, but he feared he would find he and the others bound together as he’d done before. He only prayed it wasn’t worse.
Light from the kitchen and scullery below illuminated the stairs. He descended cautiously but quickly, as dread gathered in his veins.
As expected, the servants were tied in a circle, their backs to each other, their mouths gagged. He counted four people. Three servants plus who? The orange turban told him it was Mrs. Harwood. He looked at the top of their heads, seeking Jocelyn’s golden brown locks.
She wasn’t there.
Rage and fear flooded him, but he forced himself to drop down and first remove the rags from the women’s mouths. Then he removed Moss’s gag and set about untying him so he could help free the women.
“Oh, thank goodness you arrived, my lord,” Moss twisted to give Daniel better access.
Daniel didn’t have patience for the knots, so he used his knife to simply cut them all loose. “Where is Jocelyn?” he asked of all and sundry.
Mrs. Harwood sniffed. “They took her, my lord!” She erupted with a large sob, followed by another.
Nan went to comfort the older woman.
Furious energy raced through Daniel, making it extremely difficult to stand still. He wanted to move, run, wreak havoc. “Do you know where? Or who they were?”
Mrs. Harwood shook her head. “The leader was very tall with light, dirty hair.” She wrinkled her nose and swiped a handkerchief across it. “And the bluest eyes, but they were terrifying, my lord.” She shuddered.
Nicky Blue.
It had to be. The description was too accurate and he’d been here before. “Moss, was this the same man who invaded the house the other day?”
“Yes, my lord.” He looked abashed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Moss.”
“I can’t stay here any longer,” Mrs. Moss cried, burying her face in her husband’s lapel.
“Of course not,” Daniel said, somehow finding the composure to address the woman’s well-founded fear. “Moss, use my coach and take everyone to my house in Brook Street. Pack some things as none of you will be returning tonight—or at all, if you so choose. I’ll find another situation for all of you. Indeed, I may be in need of a butler very soon myself.”
Moss nodded as he patted his wife’s back. “Thank you, my lord. Your kindness is a blessing.”
“Have you any idea at all where they might have taken her?” Daniel asked, his need to find Jocelyn and punish Nicky Blue overtaking every other consideration.
The butler shook his head sadly. “No, my lord. I’m very sorry.”
Daniel’s thoughts had already shifted to how he would find them. He had to find Jagger. He turned to go, but then stopped as a thought struck him. He spun back around. “What the devil happened with Bow Street? Isn’t someone on patrol?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” Moss said. “I saw him earlier, but he must not have witnessed the criminals’ arrival.”
Goddamned amateurs. He should’ve employed someone from Queen Street for the task. “I’ll tell my coachman to expect you,” he said. “I’m going to find Jocelyn.”
Mrs. Harwood blew her nose. “Please do, my lord. I can’t abide anything happening to that lovely girl.”
He pressed his lips together and gave a single nod. “We are in agreement, Mrs. Harwood.”
She looked up at him and raised her chin. “And I intend to dance at your wedding!”
Their wedding. Anguish and fear threatened to overcome the fury driving his thoughts, but he couldn’t give in to those emotions. In fact, he needed to set aside his anger so he could focus on fixing this problem. Jocelyn was counting on him, and no assignment had ever been more important. He forced a smile he didn’t at all feel. “I shall count on it.”
Night was falling as Daniel made his way to St. Giles in a hired hack. He’d located the errant Bow Street officer who’d been busy with a disturbance on Park Lane, which had surely been orchestrated by Nicky Blue as a distraction. Daniel had briefly considered asking the officer to join him, but some boys were still causing trouble further down the street.
The coach took him directly to the Crystal. He suspected Jagger kept a suite of rooms at the flash house as one of his many residences. He could only hope the criminal had returned after leaving Daniel’s town house earlier.
Once inside, Daniel immediately sought out the proprietor, a squat, particularly cynical fellow whom he found easily behind the bar.
“Gaunt,” he called.
The stocky man turned and scowled. “I saw ye in here the other night. I thought ye were done bein’ a constable.”
&nb
sp; “Where’s Jagger?”
Gaunt made a show of looking about the common room. “Ye see him here?” Then his irritated gaze settled on Daniel. “Me neither.”
He started to turn, but Daniel reached across the bar and pulled the man’s shoulder. “Which room upstairs? And don’t lie. I’ll tear every corner of this place apart until I find him.”
“Ye would too, ye prick.” He jerked away from Daniel. “One floor up, back corner away from the main stairs. He’s got men.”
Daniel expected nothing less. Without a word he went to the staircase in the corner of the common room and rapidly ascended. At the landing, he strode down a narrow corridor to the end where two men loitered. One was sitting in a chair but sprang to his feet while the other, lounged against the wall, perked up a bit but didn’t alter his lazy stance.
Giving both men a harrowing glare, Daniel put his hand on the doorknob.
“Hold there,” the formerly seated man said, setting his hand on Daniel’s forearm.
Daniel wasn’t going to take time to reason with these men. He drew his blade from his boot and slid it against the flesh below the man’s ear. “Open the goddamned door.”
The man against the wall lunged for Daniel, but he kicked out and caught him in his gut. Air whooshed out of him in a great gust and he staggered back. Daniel pressed the knife more firmly against his captive’s neck. “I said open the door.”
He complied, turning and throwing the door open. Daniel pushed the man back into his chair and stepped into Jagger’s suite. “Don’t bother us.” Then he slammed the door closed.
Jagger—shirtless and carrying a small cloth as if he’d just been washing—came striding from another room, his eyes spitting fire. “What the bloody hell are you—” He halted upon seeing Daniel. “Doing here,” he finished, his features cooling into mild anger.
“Where is my fiancée, you rat bastard?”
Jagger whipped the cloth over his shoulder, letting it rest upon his bare flesh. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I told you what you needed to do to protect her.”
