“That’s funny, I’ve never heard of patriots robbing people at gunpoint in the streets of London,” Honoria said, as if she didn’t notice he’d manhandled her.
Waving his gun, Victor ordered, “Get out of the carriage, Diana.”
“Lady Chervil has nothing to do with this. Leave her with the carriage and I’ll come with you quietly.”
Shoving the gun barrel painfully against Diana’s ribs, Victor smiled, enjoying her discomfort. “I suggest you come quietly, or I’ll kill your ancient friend here and leave her body in the street. She’ll be covered in snow in an hour and the other English pigs will trample her on their way home from those parties they so love.”
Jacques’s unconscious form lay across the carriage, his head and right arm hanging out the door. She prayed he would live. Part of her wanted to cry, while the rest wanted to scratch Victor’s eyes out. Neither choice was a good one in her current circumstance.
A man’s body lay on the ground. It was hard to tell in the dark, but someone that big could only be Bertram. How many more people would suffer for her sake? She gave Victor a nod.
He grabbed Honoria and brought her to another carriage painted all black. With no other option, Diana followed and climbed up next to her friend. “You should not have done that, my lady. They might have left you behind with the carriage.”
The carriage shifted as the driver climbed up.
Honoria whispered. “You are mine to watch over, Diana. I would not leave you to be dragged about on your own by these men. We shall survive this, mark my words.”
Victor climbed in and sat across from them with his gun leveled at Honoria.
Taking Honoria’s hand, Diana steadied her nerves as once again her fate spun out of her control.
Knees high, as his extreme height made riding in a carriage awkward, Caron watched the two of them with his beady eyes narrowed. “What is your name, old woman?”
“I seriously doubt you will live to grow old, given your chosen profession, but if you do, I hope someone treats you as rudely. My name is Lady Honoria Chervil. And what might your name be, sir?”
Victor wrinkled his nose as if he recognized the likely truth of Honoria’s words. The expression fell away, leaving only his hateful glare. “I am Victor Caron. I would like very much to hear more about this money you claim to have.”
“You don’t believe me?” Honoria giggled.
“Don’t laugh at me.” Victor waved his gun about.
Sobering, Honoria stared at him. The woman was fearless, either because she had lived a long time or because she had the upper hand with her knowledge that a man like Victor must be greedy rather than honorable, regardless of his claims to be a patriot of France. “I beg your pardon, monsieur. It is common knowledge in London that I have been widowed three times, and each time became richer than the last. It’s quite late now, but if you will keep my friend and I alive and unharmed, I will take you to my man of business and he will give you as much money as you require. However, if you harm one finger, bone, or inch of flesh on either of us, I will see you in hell. Do I make myself clear?”
Victor blinked, and even in the dark carriage, it was clear he was taken aback by Honoria’s bravery. “How much money?”
If their situation hadn’t been so dire, Diana would have smiled at how easily Victor was manipulated.
With a shrug, Honoria examined her gloved hand. “More than you can fathom with your limited imagination.”
“And you will give it to me?” He waved his gun around carelessly.
“If you will ensure that both Diana and I will be unharmed, I will give you money. In fact, as a good-faith gesture, I shall give you this ring.” She handed over an emerald ring that was likely worth more than Victor made in a year. “Then tomorrow, I can give you as much as you want, a thousand pounds? Of course, I need your guarantee that we will be released.”
“My superiors want her in France.”
“Then I suppose you shall not be a rich man, Mr. Caron. But I quite understand you have a duty to fulfill.” Honoria squeezed Diana’s hand as they rounded a corner.
The foul smells of the port flooded the carriage. A fire must have started; pungent smoke wafted in with rotting fish and sewage.
They stopped and Victor jumped down. “Come on. I will think about your offer. In the meantime, I will promise only to not kill you.”
Honoria stepped down into the filthy street, in a dangerous neighborhood, as if she were the queen walking into court. She stepped close to Victor and stared up at him, as he was more than a foot taller than her. “If you harm either of us, I’ll give you nothing. As you keep mentioning, I’m an old woman. Dying is not a threat. You seem to need Diana for some nefarious purpose and won’t harm her. You only have my life to bargain with, and I promise you this, monsieur, should you so much as cause a bruise on that girl’s flesh, I will die before I give you a penny. I suggest you have that ring examined so that you will know I am a woman of my word. You will find it is worth quite a fortune.”
“You speak too boldly for a woman in your predicament.” Tightening his fist around the ring, he turned to his two men. “Put them both in the room and see they are not harmed.” Getting back in the carriage, he knocked on the roof to indicate he was ready.
The man who was with Victor in the garden, Percival Reneau, held his gun pointed at Diana. Not as well educated, his accent was thick and guttural. “Get inside, ladies. I cannot keep you safe on these streets.”
Diana and Honoria complied and were locked in a small bedroom. The furniture was old, but the house was clean. A guard walked back and forth outside their door for several minutes before dragging a chair down the hall and sitting. The walls were thin enough to hear everything, even the creak of the chair as he sat.
The noise from the street made its way inside as if they were part of the dock community. Diana spoke close to Honoria’s ear. “You must be crazy to threaten Victor Caron. He’s a vicious man and would think nothing of killing you. I’ll never forgive myself if you’re harmed.”
Honoria pulled her into a tight hug. “He won’t hurt either of us. He’ll want the money, my dear. Once we are out of this house, we’ll need to find a way to make our location known. We must believe Bertram and Mr. Laurent are alive and will get help to look for us.”
Panic rose up in Diana’s throat. “You should have stayed with the carriage. You would be safe. He wouldn’t have seen you as a threat and would have left you unharmed. Now, he’ll use you to get to me.”
Pulling her to the bed, Honoria sat them both down. “Calm down, Diana. I know you have some experience with this man, and I’m sure you’re right about him being capable of horrible things. However, neither you nor your parents had the means to bribe him. I think you will find he is equally motivated by riches as he was by his warped sense of duty. He will have the ring investigated, and when he learns how much it’s worth, his greed for more will take over. That will get us out into London and to the bank before they drag you off to France. We cannot let him put you on a boat.”
“I suppose your plan has merit. He might have put me directly in the hull of a boat tonight if not for the promise of riches. If Jacques is alive, he will get help.” Her heart ached with the possibility that the blow to Jacques’s head might have been fatal. Poor Bertram lay in the street. More people harmed trying to protect her.
Honoria patted her hand. “Don’t fret. Those men are strong. They’ll live.”
Nodding, Diana swallowed down her worry and focused on something she could do, rather than on things she was powerless to change. “I will tear the lace on my petticoat. Perhaps we can leave a trail of bread crumbs.”
“An excellent idea. Perhaps we can bribe these guards to let us go.” Honoria rubbed the emeralds around her neck and stared at the door.
“Let’s not risk it. Victor is smart and he has a str
ange obsession with regard to me. If these two tell him you tried to win our freedom, all will be lost, and I’ll be on the next boat to France.
With a sigh, Honoria lay back on the bed. “I suppose you’re right. We had better get what rest we can. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Diana knew she was right, but it would be impossible to sleep. She left the candle burning and rested beside Honoria. “I appreciate you risking yourself to protect me. I don’t think I’ve ever had such good friends as I’ve made these last few weeks.”
“I am lucky to call you friend, my dear. I could not let anything terrible happen to you, if there is a chance I can prevent it.”
Snuggling against Honoria the way she used to with her mother, Diana sighed. “While I wish you were safe, I’m glad you are here with me, my lady.”
“As am I, Diana.” Honoria relaxed, and a moment later a low snore sounded as she drifted to sleep.
Diana watched the candle until it burned out.
Chapter 9
Head pounding, Jacques struggled to focus on the voices in the room.
“Wake up, Jacques.” Preston’s order cut through the din.
Jacques blinked. Several candles lit the room along with a blazing fire in the hearth. Preston’s study at the Middleton town house came into focus. How had he gotten there?
The dinner party.
Diana looking stunning in a blue gown.
The carriage ride to Everton House.
Victor Caron!
“Diana!” Jacques sat up. “Where is Diana?” If a spike had shot through his skull, he’d not have been surprised. The pain nearly sent him to the floor.
Preston put a hand on his shoulder and firmly kept him seated and steady. “Good. You remember. Don’t get up too fast. We’re already looking for them.”
Michael stepped out of the shadows. “Do you remember anything that might help?”
Rubbing the back of his head, Jacques irritated a rather large knot covered by a bloody mat of hair. “Only that Victor Caron pointed a pistol into the carriage. I think he rode in an all-black Clarence.” He pushed his aching mind to remember more. “There were no markings. I saw one other man, and someone must have hit me from behind, so he had at least two with him.”
With a nod, Michael left the room and spoke to someone in the hallway.
A maid ran in. “We packed some snow. It won’t last long, but should help with that bump on your head, sir.” She handed him a damp towel.
He eased it onto the back of his head. “Thank you.”
Preston sat next to him and raked his fingers through his hair.
“Did the footmen from Everton’s survive?”
“Yes. It was lucky no one was killed. One is shot, but he will live. The rest were knocked unconscious in a similar fashion to you. Victor knows a bloodbath in the streets of London would attract too much attention. He was smart to keep the damage to a minimum. He probably thinks we’ll not care about the fate of one untitled woman. They took Lady Chervil, though. That puzzles me. It would have been wiser to leave her behind. Certainly, he knows we’ll search for her.”
“Perhaps she refused to be left behind. She can be persuasive and is very fond of Diana.” Jacques was still struggling to focus his mind. “What about Bertram? He’s the large footman who guards Diana daily.”
“He woke first and stumbled after the carriage for about a block before he lost them. He ran back here, badly beaten and his head bleeding. Michael was just climbing in his carriage. He’s called the Horsemen. Alexander is in town and came immediately. Sebastian is a day’s ride and we’ve sent a messenger to fetch him. Oliver and Nathaniel are at the castle, and while we’ve sent a note, they will not likely be here before this has concluded.”
Not even when his own life balanced on the edge of a guillotine had Jacques experienced the wave of pure rage that filled him at the thought of Diana left in the hands of a monster. He’d failed her. “If he so much as scratches her, I will tear him to pieces with my bare hands.”
“I know.” Preston patted his back then stood. “Rest a while. I doubt they will pick up a trail until daylight. I called Thomas Wheel, as he has a knack for such things, and Michael and he are close friends. He is trying to pick up a trail or find someone who knows Caron’s movements in England. Prepare yourself. I’m going to let Millie in before she breaks down the door.”
As soon as Preston opened the door, Millicent ran in and threw herself into Jacques’s arms. “I was so worried. When they brought you back and you were unconscious, I thought the worst. Poor Diana and Honoria. I can’t imagine the horror of being dragged off in the night.”
His snow-filled towel was just a wet mess with a bloodstain from his head wound. He dropped it on the tea tray he’d just noticed on the table and hugged Millicent. “I’m fine, Millie. Just a bump on the head, and you know how hard my head is.”
Pulling back to look him in the eye, she studied him. “You know your name and mine, that’s a good sign. We’ve had a steady flow of people coming through, but Bertram hasn’t returned. He blames himself.”
“He’s a good man. I do not know how they managed to surprise him, but I doubt he could have done anything to change the outcome.” Jacques put weight on his feet and leaned forward before slowly standing. The room wobbled for a moment, but then he was fine. He took a breath and walked to the window. He had failed her when he said he would keep her safe. A knot formed in his chest and tightened painfully.
Millicent said, “Diana is a clever girl. She will find a way to help herself, and with Honoria one never knows what antics will take place.”
Turning, he faced the pretty blonde his best friend had married. Still in her red gown from dinner, she was a vision marred only by the worry etched around her eyes and mouth. “How well do you know Lady Chervil?”
“Very well. She lived at Everton House much of the time I was employed there.” Millicent took a step back and narrowed her gaze.
“I like her, but she strikes me as frivolous. Is she likely to get Diana killed with her whimsy?”
A slow smile pulled at Millicent’s lips. “You should not worry about that, Jacques. She may appear as if she hasn’t a care in the world, but she is a smart, clever and very resourceful woman. She is also quite well off. If I were in trouble, Honoria Chervil would be a fine asset to have on my side.”
Jacques sent up a prayer that she was right. Diana would need all the help she could get. If Victor had a boat waiting in the harbor, Jacques might never see Diana again. It wouldn’t do. He would strip his homeland bare, but he would find her.
* * * *
An hour later, Jacques was desperate to get out of the house and look for Diana. His headache was a reminder that he was alive, and she might be in the hold of some boat waiting for an opportunity to leave England forever.
Alexander Lynds, the man at the head of the Buckrose Horsemen, arrived in an elegant black coat and well-shined shoes. He hardly looked like the rough-and-ready pirate who’d helped Jacques escape the Bastille. “It’s good to see you, Laurent. I heard you’ve had a difficult night.”
In other circumstances, he would have been happy to see Alex. He shook his hand. “Lynds. I appreciate you cutting your evening short to help. Miss MacLeod and Lady Chervil are in grave danger. I fear they may already be beyond our borders.”
Alex gave the butler his hat and overcoat, then sat on a large chair near the window in Preston’s library. “At least I can give you some relief with regard to that. No one matching the description of Victor Caron or either lady has left London by road, and no ships have been permitted out of port since I was contacted. It is extremely unlikely Caron could have made it out before then. I assume the timeline you gave me is accurate, Your Grace?”
Michael nodded. “As accurate as is possible, within twenty minutes.”
“Th
en I am confident they have not left the country. We will find them.” Alex leaned forward. “I’m somewhat concerned about the circumstances of this incident. Can you tell me what happened?”
“What do you mean, you are concerned?” Jacques’s defensive instincts kicked in.
“How were you ambushed?” Voice steady, Alex never took his gaze away from Jacques.
Part of Jacques wanted to rage against the obvious implication that things might not be as they seemed, but he needed Alex’s help. “We left here around ten o’clock. It was prearranged to take my carriage back to Everton House where the ladies and footmen live.”
“Why did the ladies require your carriage?” Alex brushed a bit of lint from his coat and leaned back in his chair.
“The Everton Domestic Society carriage was needed elsewhere.”
Alex pushed his blond hair back from his eyes. “Who asked for your help?”
“Miss MacLeod sent a note a few days ago.” This was not going well.
“So, Miss MacLeod asked for you to transport her home and the carriage was attacked.” Alex pulled out a notebook. He took a quill from the desk, dipped it in ink and jotted a note.
Jacques stood. “She did not arrange this. She is a prisoner and in danger. You are wrong about her.”
With a long sigh, Alex put the notebook away. “I understand your affection for this lady, and you may well be correct. Perhaps she is an innocent who has been taken advantage of. Certainly, her parents’ absence from her life and her claim that they were murdered counts in her favor. I know you believe her innocent, and Michael, I mean His Grace, also thinks she’s a good woman. However, I must look at this from every side.”
Fury raced through Jacques. It was insane that anyone could believe anything but good could come from Diana. He stood in front of Alex. “I will vouch for her. Get her back and you can see for yourself that she is all things good. Her story is painful to listen to. I have known my fair share of liars. Get her back and let her prove her innocence.”
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