Taken aback, it took Michael a moment or two to comprehend the situation before him. The butler was worried about Hope and her family. Perhaps the servant was on his side after all? It’s possible the man had no choice but to lie to him about Hope. After what he had heard about Mr. Stuckeley recently, it was entirely possible that the man had threatened the staff and that was why no one gave him a clue as to the trouble brewing in the household.
Considering all this, Michael instantly forgave the butler and replied, “Your mistresses and the children are fine. They are safe under the roof of Lady Lancaster, and there they will remain until Miss Stuckeley and I marry. Then the whole brood will move in with us.”
Rivers breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sir. We have been so worried, especially with the master gone. We were afraid of what he may have done…or had yet to do.”
Michael heard the warning clearly and it echoed his own concerns. “Mr. Stuckeley is gone, then? And is everyone well?” Michael asked grimly, an anger roiling deep in the pit of his stomach.
Nodding, Rivers said, “Yes, but the staff is frightened, and without a master or mistress, they are concerned about their future.”
“They can stop being worried, my good man. I am always in need of good and loyal staff. Rest assured a place will be found for anyone in this household who wishes it.”
Relief was clearly evident when Rivers replied, “Thank you, my lord. That is very generous of you. And I am sorry for—”
“No apologies are necessary,” Michael interrupted. “It is clear you all were placed in a very difficult position.”
Rivers accepted Michael’s words gratefully.
“Now then, since Mr. Stuckeley is not in residence, would you mind allowing me to search his study? Hopefully, there is something in there that will allow us to end this unfortunate turmoil once and for all.”
Hesitating slightly, Rivers was obviously torn between his deep-seated duty as butler and protector of the house and his desire to help the man who was going to marry Miss Hope. Loyalty to Miss Hope quickly won out.
“Of course, sir. Allow me to lead the way.”
Rivers turned and led Michael to Mr. Stuckeley’s study. Surprisingly, it was not far, being situated just under the large, sweeping staircase. Michael briefly wondered if Hope’s father had been there just waiting to strike when he heard her feminine step on the stairs after she returned from the disaster in the park.
Mr. Stuckeley was far more cunning than Michael had previously given him credit for.
Once reaching the room in question, Rivers left Michael to conduct his search.
Looking around the room, Michael could see the appeal of spending one’s time there. Because it shared one wall with the curving staircase, the proportions of the room were unique. The desk was placed across the room in front of two large windows that flooded the room with natural light. The placement of the desk was such that when one sat behind it, the bookshelves appeared to beg for you to take a book, curved as they were toward the desk.
It was a fascinating optical illusion, but Michael could only give it a cursory appreciation before turning his focus to the search. He started with the most logical place to look…the desk.
Not exactly sure what he was looking for, Michael began rummaging through the drawers. There were the usual files, accounts, investments, legal documents, but nothing that yielded any proof of hiring Crane. Michael then turned to the top of the desk. It was remarkably organized.
Absently, Michael flipped through the notes on the desk while considering where to search. He did not relish the idea of looking through all the books in the room, but he could not afford to leave any stone unturned.
Then suddenly, something caught his eye. One of the promissory notes was from William Crane!
Michael pulled the note off the spike and took a closer look at it. In disbelief, he read, “Debt paid in full—Hackney services/De Berenger.” Then scribbled at the bottom of the note was, “Report red, not green.”
This is it, Michael thought in astonishment, the proof he needed. Honestly, he didn’t expect to find anything. It was just a stroke of good luck that he had.
Folding the paper carefully, Michael put the rest of the notes back on the spike and looked around to ensure the room looked in the same condition as when he arrived. Then he left the study, made his farewells to Rivers—promising to be in touch soon about the staff—and he left the house.
He needed to get back to Hope and share with her what he had found.
…
“First Rose and now you?” Emily said in disbelief as she and Sarah listened to Hope’s recent news.
“It does seem a day made for romance,” Hope replied happily, giving the barest thought to Michael’s mission, wondering how it was going.
“Not for some of us,” Sarah muttered, glancing over at David Rochester, who was saying his farewells to the departing party guests.
The wedding celebration was just coming to an end. William and Hannah had departed an hour or so earlier, and Hope was in danger of being the last person in attendance. Luckily, the Rochester’s were very fond of Hannah’s friends and they were always welcome in their home. Hope, of course, being their niece was doubly so.
Still, she hoped that Michael would return soon.
“Oh, cheer up, Sarah,” Hope said. “I am living proof that dreams can come true.”
“Your father being guilty of a treasonous crime is a dream come true?” Sarah responded absently, her mind clearly still on her unrequited feelings of love.
Hope was too shocked by her friend’s careless words to do anything more than stare at her with a pained expression.
“Sarah,” Emily admonished. “That was a horrible thing to say.”
To her credit, Sarah looked absolutely sick when she realized what had come out of her mouth.
“Oh, Hope…I am so sorry,” Sarah whispered, clearly in agony. “I don’t know what possessed me. It just came out…” she finished lamely.
Hope could see that her friend was truly upset, but she couldn’t get over the hurt her words had caused. Just moments before, she had been truly happy, and the dose of reality Sarah had poured over her was not at all appreciated, or warranted.
“I…I’ll just go,” Sarah said hoarsely and she turned and walked toward the Torrington’s carriage. She and Emily had come together in her father, the duke’s, conveyance.
Hope and Emily watched Sarah leave, dragging her feet and looking downright pathetic.
Turning to Emily, Hope said wearily, “Go talk to her, please. Tell her I am not irrevocably damaged… I will get over this soon enough, I am sure.”
“You know she didn’t mean anything by it. She really can’t seem to help herself.”
“I know,” Hope sighed. “Go to her… I will be fine.”
Emily nodded and gave Hope a quick hug good-bye and followed in Sarah’s pitiable path.
Looking around, Hope saw that the duke’s carriage was the last to leave. She was alone in the darkened front yard of the Rochester mansion. Not yet ready to go inside and face pleasantries with her Aunt and Uncle, Hope decided to take a small walk around the perimeter of the front property. The yard wasn’t particularly big, but it was overflowing with life. Squat bushes, large trees, glorious flower beds just beginning to show their colors. The evening was crisp and clear, and the stars were shining as brightly as Hope had ever seen within the London limits.
Just as Hope reached a thick copse of trees that clumped together prettily at the corner of the property, she heard a rustling noise off to her right. She stopped to investigate, expecting a furry creature of some sort as the culprit; however, what she saw was a face staring back at her with an expression of evil intent.
Letting out a startled shriek, Hope took a step back and prepared to run. Instead she ran into something solid—and odiferous—behind her, and before she had a chance to even catch a glimpse of her assailant, a hand snaked across her mouth and presse
d a pungent-smelling cloth against her nostrils.
Reacting instinctively, Hope struck out blindly and was rewarded with a muffled oath of pain before everything began to go black and she lost consciousness.
…
Michael was a block or two away from the Rochester estate when he heard the scream. A sick feeling of foreboding tingled up his spine and he spurred his horse on faster. He arrived just in time to see two men shoving an inert body into an unmarked, rather shabby, carriage. They were too far away for him to see clearly, nor was he close enough to stop the abduction, but Michael knew deep down in his soul that the person they were taking was Hope. If he had to, he would follow them to the ends of the earth to rescue her. He could no longer imagine his life without her.
The carriage was a good city block ahead of him, but Michael was on horseback and therefore, much more maneuverable. By sticking to the shadows, he was able to follow unseen.
After about thirty minutes, Michael could see that instead of heading toward the City—where one might expect thugs to take their quarry—the men were driving out toward the country. Properties there were more secluded and isolated—the perfect places to hold a prisoner with little chance of cries for help being heard.
Michael took a moment to thank God that he had arrived at the Rochester’s when he had. Even a minute later and Hope would have been gone. Gone without a single trace as to where or even why.
Though Michael had a good idea as to the why… Hope’s father had finally made his move. But to hire brutes to abduct his daughter? This was a far cry from locking Hope up in her room. Those men were very likely dangerous and would have no qualms using Hope for wicked purposes if given even the slightest provocation.
When the carriage suddenly turned off the main road onto an overgrown and neglected drive, Michael began to wish he had had a chance to recruit some aid. As far as he was aware, there were only two men with Hope, plus the driver, but there was no telling how many more men were waiting inside the house. Hope was just one female, but Stuckeley could have involved himself with an entire gang that regularly inhabited this locale.
No, it was better that Michael take the time to investigate the situation before blindly leaping into the fray. In the long run, it would be safer for Hope. Besides, surely Stuckeley wasn’t planning on harming his daughter. More likely, the man just wanted to remove her from a position to talk to the authorities. He might even be planning to send her out of the country, far away from anywhere where she could make trouble.
He might even try marrying her off, Michael thought, paling at the idea.
That could not be allowed to happen. Michael had just gotten the chit to agree to marry him, there was no way he could stand for—much less survive—her wedding someone else.
As determined as ever, Michael turned his horse off the drive and they picked their way gingerly to the side of the large, though run-down, mansion. There, he dismounted and tied his mount to a tree, well camouflaged from prying eyes. Then he crept over to the nearest window and took a peek inside.
There was very little by way of light, just a few flickering candles here and there. The room he was looking into appeared to be a parlor of some sort. It was unoccupied and unlit, but the door had been left open and Michael could see through to the foyer and the base of the stairs. There was a rough looking man sitting on the bottom step cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his knife.
Then he heard the door opening and the man rose to his feet and pulled out a pistol.
Michael heard some muffled voices raised in anger and watched as the man with the gun lowered his weapon and rushed over to help the new arrivals. The door was out of Michael’s line of sight, so for a few anxious moments, all he could do was wait until they moved back into the open.
Then with a sigh of relief, Michael saw the men return into view, and with them was Hope. She was clearly unconscious, but otherwise appeared unharmed. The same could not be said for one of the men. Even from where Michael was, he could see the bruise starting around ruffian’s eye.
Then he saw the men moving Hope upstairs. Aside from the fingernail cleaner, Michael was still none the wiser about the number of men he would be facing during this rescue. Four men would be a challenge, but it was not an impossible task; however, Michael was hoping not to face any of the men. Rather, he planned to sneak Hope out from wherever they locked her away.
The second floor made the rescue a bit more risky—especially considering Hope’s fear of heights—but failure was not an option. Michael had spent his entire career infiltrating circumstances such as these, and never before was the prize so dear or the reward so great.
Knowing what needed to be done, Michael left his post outside the darkened parlor and began exploring the outside of the large house. He kept a careful eye on the second floor windows, hoping to see a flicker of light to indicate occupation. Once he determined the best way to get to the second floor, it would be helpful to know where Hope was being held captive.
Helpful, but not necessary.
Michael would break into every room of the house searching for his betrothed if it came to that; and God help whomever he ran into during his search.
Chapter Twenty-five
Courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to rise above it.
~The Duke of Lancaster
Hope woke up in a dirty, dingy room with a blistering headache and a strange, unpleasant taste in her mouth. Sitting up slowly, she was hit with bout of severe nausea. Only by force of sheer willpower, was Hope able to keep from casting up her accounts.
Groaning, Hope held her stomach and looked around. Seeing a window nearby, she staggered to her feet—only barely registering that she was not tied up—and lunged over to the dirt-encrusted panes. Jerking up the bottom sash, she stuck her head out and took a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air. Immediately, her head felt better and her stomach settled some.
With a sigh of relief, Hope set about ascertaining her predicament. The first thing she realized was that she was on the second floor. Ignoring the flash of fear at being so high up, Hope looked out across the property. She could see they had brought her to what appeared to be an abandoned country estate. There were tall trees in the distance and scrubby bushes along the base of the house, but other than that, Hope could see no signs of life.
Shuddering at the state of her prison, Hope finally wondered at her relative freedom in the space. Weren’t her captors concerned that she had access to a functioning window, an escape route? Granted, she hadn’t seen anything to indicate a way to the ground from the window, but if not for her fear of heights, she would have been looking for one. In fact, anyone other than Hope would have been out of that auspicious exit at once, looking for a way down to safety.
“Anyone other than me,” Hope repeated in a whisper, the unthinkable, most repugnant idea running rampant in her head.
Her father was behind this kidnapping…
Hope was sure of it. He knew better than most about her utter fear of heights. She could be in a room full of windows, even a window right up against a tall, strong tree, and still she would not leave through it.
That is simply not fair! Hope screamed silently. Having one’s father plotting against you was an unfair disadvantage.
Sinking down into the only chair in the room, Hope wondered why she didn’t see this coming. Hadn’t she warned Michael of her father’s unstable nature just hours earlier? And yet she allowed herself to wander, completely unsuspecting, around a darkened yard just ripe for hiding and sneaking cutthroats.
“I am such a fool,” she berated herself softly.
Hope was in trouble…big, big trouble.
As fear began to engulf her, Hope suddenly heard mumbling voices from just outside the room. A flicker of candlelight showed through the crack at the bottom of the door, and she waited anxiously to see if they would enter the room.
When moments passed and the men outside seemed content to stay where they were, Hop
e swallowed her panic and tiptoed over to the thick wooden door. Pressing her ear against the rough and dirty surface, she listened.
“Did you have any problems with the capture?” a man’s voice said, and Hope immediately recognized the speaker as her father. Trembling with anger and horror, she forced herself to pay attention. Hopefully, the men would give her some clue as to where she was and what they planned to do with her.
“Nay,” another man replied. “Simple as pie, it were.”
“Easy for ye to say, Bucky. She didn’t give ye a black eye,” a third man grumbled.
“Ye should ‘ave been a might more forceful there, Stanley and you wouldn’t ‘ave been ‘it.”
Hope heard a gasp, and her father said, “You didn’t hurt her, did you?”
“Didn’t ‘arm ‘er none at all, don’t you worry, sir. Once she was out, she didn’t put up nary a fight.”
“Good, good,” Mr. Stuckeley replied, clearly relieved.
“What do ye want us to do with ‘er now?”
There was a pause and then, “I’m not sure. Cochrane-Johnstone will be here soon. He and I will decide what to do with her then.”
Hope slunk back to her chair and sat down with a plop. That was the last thing she had wanted to hear; that her fate lay in Mr. Cochrane-Johnstone’s hands. By all accounts, he was the ringleader of the entire Stock Exchange scandal and therefore, completely unscrupulous, in her opinion. There was no telling what he would want to do with her.
She may end up dead, after all.
“Oh, Michael… I am so sorry,” Hope whimpered as tears began rolling down her face for the first time since she had been spirited away by the hired thugs.
…
Hope awoke with a start. Apparently, she had dozed off in her misery for a few minutes, but was awakened by something. Glancing around, she could see no changes to her environment that could have caused the startle, so she stood and walked slowly back to the door, and once again she listened.
“No,” her father was saying insistently, “I do not agree that killing her is the only way.”
Tempting Her Reluctant Viscount (Entangled Scandalous) Page 19
