“Let me explain how this works,” Ian said from the doorway. “My cousin, Lord John Russel, is Commander of the King’s Guard. It would not be hard for him to make sure his regiment is out on training the day in question.”
“And I,” Bedford interjected, “pushed the bill through the House of Lords which funds the local magistrates and Sir John’s Bow Street Runners.”
“Imagine,” Ian said, picking up where his friend stopped. “You might say that we oversee who gets paid and how much.”
The color from Grainger’s face began to fade to a pale yellowish with a hint of green.
“Then of course,” Bedford picked up, “there is the fact that I can kill you at any time, and I doubt my peers will convict. You are a known criminal after all. In fact, I do believe the papers would applaud the act. I would be doing my part to make London a little better. Knowing the Prince Regent like I do, I know he would find it very amusing.”
Grainger swallowed hard. Studied them for a long moment. Bedford could tell the man was frantically searching for an escape. Like a rat cornered in the kitchen, desperate for an escape. He frowned. “You two are richer than a man has a right to be. Why not just pay her father’s debt for her?”
Bedford remained very still as he fought to control himself. “Because you threatened one of mine.”
The criminal continued to stare into his eyes and grew even paler until he finally nodded acceptance. It was obvious to Bedford that the man had finally come to realize just how close he was to his entire world crashing down around him.
“If by some chance you or your men come across Miss Parker,” Bedford said, “send word to my house, I know you know it.”
Grainger looked down at the hands on his desk then nodded. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” The Duke of Bedford said as he stood and prepared to leave. “If anything happens to her. If one hair is harmed. I will hold you responsible. Regardless of who actually does it. Do we understand each other.
The master criminal nodded as his head slumped in defeat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ann Parker shivered as she pulled the piece of an old canvas tarp up around her shoulders. The dark corner of an abandoned warehouse had to be the coldest place on earth, she thought as she fought to stop her teeth from chattering.
What had she done? How had she walked away from warmth, a full stomach, and safety? All because she couldn’t face him. Couldn’t stomach the idea of being nothing more than his mistress. She had been an idiot. But it could be no other way. Not if she was to live with herself.
The thought of the two fine gowns she had left hanging in the armoire flashed through her mind. No. If she had taken them, he would have thought she came to him for his wealth. Besides, the funds wouldn’t have lasted forever and she would have found herself in the same dire straights, regardless. No, she told herself. This had been the only way. Her only choice if she was to retain any sense of pride.
A quick scurrying noise in the distant corner made her heart jump. Rats. She hated rats. The thought of them climbing over her while she slept had kept her awake throughout the night.
Shivering again, this time more from fright than cold, she pushed herself up. The morning was almost here and she needed to find some food. If necessary, she would use some of her few coins. A loaf of old bread and a bit of cheese would last her several days.
Mrs. Jensen might be her only hope. But it was too soon. She couldn’t risk returning to the Duke’s residence, not yet.
Perhaps if she waited until the housekeeper left the house. But where could she hide until she could approach the woman? In that neighborhood, she would stand out. Those people were not accepting of strangers hiding in the shadows. Unlike down here on the docks. A person could disappear and no one cared as long as they minded their own business.
Her stomach cramped with emptiness. Sighing heavily, she glanced up at the windows high on the far wall. A soft gray light. The barrows would be pushed out soon and she could get something to eat.
After a long interlude, Ann opened the warehouse door and peeked outside. No one was watching. No sign of Grainger’s men. Of course not. It would never occur to them that she would leave such a fine position to return to this world.
She had never been known for being an idiot. Why would they think she had become one so quickly? Of course, they had never loved a man like she did. They had never known the pain of unrequited love. That awful emptiness that filled a person with self-hate and loathing.
They had never longed for a happiness they could never have. So, of course, they would never imagine her returning to the docks. It had been her silent hope. To hide where they never expected her.
Once she was positive that no one was watching, she slipped out of the door and down the street to an alley. She ducked into the shadows and turned to watch if she was being followed. No, there was no one.
The streets were coming alive. Men on their way to work. Vegetable and fruit vendors pushing barrows to their preferred position.
Even the call of the seagulls signified the beginning of a new day.
Once she was sure that no one was paying any attention to her, she approached a fruit cart. The old woman behind selling her wares shot her a quick look. Ann’s insides tightened. She would get no free lunch from this woman. Her eyes were too quick and her mind too sharp.
No, she would have to part with one of her coins.
The woman studied her as she approached. Ann took two apples and placed a farthing in the woman’s hand. As she turned to leave the woman reached out and held her arm.
“Grainger’s men are looking for you,” the woman whispered as she glanced around to make sure no one had heard. “And they ain’t happy. You be careful. It’s too easy for a girl to disappear and no one ever know.”
Ann’s stomach shriveled into a tight ball. How? A sudden fear filled her. If Grainger knew she had returned, then her hope of hiding for a few weeks might be ruined.
“Thank you,” she forced herself to tell the old woman.
What now? Should she abandon the docks? No, not yet, she thought. They didn’t know where she was nor her hiding place.
She gave the woman a wan smile then hurried back to the shadows. The two apples would have to be enough. She couldn’t risk a loaf of bread. The more people who saw her the more likely word was to get back to Grainger.
Keeping to the shadows, she made her way back to the warehouse. At the corner, she stopped, hiding behind a pile of rubbish someone had pushed to the side of an alley. She watched the warehouse door and surrounding streets for an hour. The entire time, she was tempted to start on an apple but she forced herself to hold off.
She would eat them when she was alone and safe. Where she could enjoy them without this constant gnawing fear.
At last, she felt comfortable enough to scurry across the street and into her dark corner. Once there, her shoulders relaxed as she allowed herself a moment of peace.
It wasn’t much, but Grainger didn’t know about it. That made the barren corner of this warehouse one of the safest places in all of London.
Once again pulling the tarp around her, she removed the first of her apples. As she prepared to take her first bite, she sneezed and shivered again. No, she thought as a new fear filled her. She couldn’t afford to become ill. Not now. Not here.
.o0o.
Bedford studied the map of London before him on his desk. A dozen different organizations had been alerted to be on the lookout for Miss Parker. Both legitimate and less than savory.
Where could she be? he wondered for the thousandth time in the last three days.
Or had she left London altogether? She could be anywhere in Britain. Even using a different name. He would never find her.
A sick feeling of failure filled him. Why? Did she hate him that much? Why else do this to him? Did she purposely know the pain she would cause him and didn’t care enough to even tell him why?
Was she safe
? That was all he needed to know. He could live with Ann rejecting him. It would be a sad, lonely life. But he would survive. What he could not abide was not knowing if she was well.
A beautiful girl like her was in great danger. This world was no place for such a beauty. Alone, with no one to turn to. No, he must find her.
Once again, he reviewed all of his actions in trying to find her. Mrs. Jensen’s web had produced no sign of the girl. There wasn’t a house in London with a staff that had been approached by a young woman looking for work. None of the staffing agencies had seen her.
Men like Grainger were scouring all of London for her. Bedford had doubled the reward, then doubled it again. But still no word. Where had the woman gone?
And what of Grainger, himself? he wondered. Could he trust the man to not hurt Ann if his men found her? A sick doubt filled him.
It was as if she had disappeared into thin air.
As he continued to study the map, the study door opened with Ian stepping in with a questioning frown.
“No,” Bedford answered before he could be asked. “Not a word from any source.”
Ian shook his head as he removed a small piece of canvas from a leather portfolio. “Perhaps this might help,” he said as he held up a drawing of Ann in her maid’s uniform.
“It is from memory, but I believe it captures her well,” he raised an eyebrow obviously asking what he thought. Bedford’s gut tightened. It was a perfect likeness. Pure beauty with a sense of grace.
“I was thinking last night that the people you have looking have no idea what she looks like. They are going on a vague description and the name she was using last week. Maybe if we show this around, it might help.”
Bedford smiled slightly. Yes. Ian was right. It might help. Heaven knew, nothing else was working.
“Thank you, Ian. You’ve done an amazing job.”
“I will paint more copies and we can spread them throughout the city.”
Bedford nodded as his heart filled with thankfulness. His friend understood. As he stared down at the portrait in his hands, he felt a sense of fear. What if this didn’t work? What if he never knew what happened to her? How could he ever find happiness without knowing what happened to Miss Ann Parker?
.o0o.
Ann coughed again as she fought to stop shivering. Every bone ached, every muscle felt as if she had been run over by a carriage and her head felt as if it would explode from the pressure building inside.
Closing her eyes, she tried to fight the darkness that threatened to overtake her.
The sickness had washed over her three days ago. Pulling her into a world of cloudy pain. She had drifted in and out of awareness while her body fought against the evil illness.
Brock, she thought. Oh, to have his arms around her. To feel that warmth and safety. As if nothing could ever hurt her again. her heart broke once again as she thought of all she had lost.
She had been such a fool. She would die here. All alone. Forgotten. Food for the rats. The thought made her shudder, but she no longer had the strength to fight against it.
What would become of him? she wondered. Would he go on to have a happy life? Would he ever think of her? Maybe, she hoped. Perhaps a fleeting thought. It was all she could hope for. To be a distant memory in a man’s mind.
There would be no happy family. No children. No shared laughter. No, all she would know was a painful death in the dark corner of an abandoned warehouse.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Duke of Bedford continued to pace in his study. Nothing. Not a word for five days. The thought was a constant grating of his soul. Shaving off pieces of his very being with each passing second.
“Enough,” he yelled as he snatched up Ian’s portrait of Ann and stormed out of the study. “My carriage,” he bellowed.
Mrs. Jensen stepped out from the back room. “Your Grace, John Coachman has been ready for the last hour.”
Bedford raised an eyebrow.
Mrs. Jensen smiled slightly. “I couldn’t see you sitting here much longer waiting for someone else to find her.”
The Duke snorted, grabbed his cane. Hat, and his cloak and was out the door. He would thank her later. At the moment, all he could think of doing was finding Ann.
When John pulled to a halt, Bedford jumped down and told him to stay close. John tipped his hat and then lifted his jacket to show a pistol in his belt. Then as if to emphasize the point, he nudged his carriage gun with his knee.
Bedford frowned and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was the man letting go that blunderbuss. He’d take out half the street.
He removed Ian’s picture and started asking people if they had seen this girl. Most of them frowned, shook their heads and moved on. More than a few looked at him askance. As if asking what a finely dressed man such as himself was doing looking for a girl.
Dismissing their nasty thoughts and assumptions, he kept making his way down the street. No one was ignored. Each person was shown the picture. But it was hopeless.
As he made his way down the second street his mind started to do the math. One street, three blocks long. It would take him twenty years to cover all of London at this rate. And he had no idea if she was even still here.
He swallowed the pain and anguish and forced himself to continue. It might be hopeless, but it was the only chance he had. And every second was one more moment where Ann was in danger.
“Excuse me,” he said as he showed the picture to a fruit monger behind a barrow. The old woman frowned then looked back up at him, then once again at the picture. Bedford’s stomach clenched. The woman hadn’t dismissed him or the picture.
“You don’t look like one of Grainger’s men?”
His heart stopped. What did that have to do with anything? “No, but we are both looking for the same girl. It is imperative I find her first.”
The old woman glanced at her fruit then back at him.
Bedford almost laughed as he hurriedly took several apples and dropped a shilling into her hand.
The woman’s eyebrows rose in surprise then narrowed in deep thought. “Saw her a few days ago. Bought some apples from me then disappeared into the mist.”
The Duke sighed heavily as his heart soared. This was the first indication that she was here in the area. He hadn’t been wasting his time.
“Where? When?” he demanded as he fought to stop himself from becoming overbearing.
The woman again looked at her fruit and then again at him.
Bedford ground his teeth. He didn’t have time for this. Taking out a gold sovereign, he held it out and said, “Tell me everything you know. If your information leads me to her, there will be ten more of these.”
Her eyes grew as big as the sun as she reached out and snatched it from his fingers before he could change his mind.
“This very spot,” the woman said as she looked down at the coin in her hand. “She must have been staying close to here. It was early in the morning and she was my first customer. A sweet girl down on her luck.”
Bedford nodded encouragingly. It was taking every bit of self-control to stop from shaking the woman to make her hurry.
As if becoming aware of his disappearing patience she added, “I told her about Grainger’s men looking for her. She didn’t seem happy to hear it.”
The Duke’s insides continued to tighten up with each word. “Which way?”
The old woman pointed to an alley without taking her eyes off the coin.
Bedford nodded his appreciation and ran across the street and down the indicated alley. She could be anywhere. It had been days. She might have left the area. NO! he would find her. He must.
.o0o.
Ann pulled herself up out of the cloudy darkness. Her mouth felt as If someone had dumped an ash bin down her throat. She had never felt so cold and so alone.
Not long, she thought. Her body no longer had the energy to shiver. A soft melancholy washed over her. She had accepted her coming death. She could only
pray that it was painless and took her in her sleep.
Once again, the grayness washed over her. Was this it? Would she drift off and never wake? She no longer cared as she let herself fall.
Something pulled her back up. A large form hovering over her, a scent she remembered from a past happiness. Her eyes tried to focus but she no longer had the strength. All she could do was allow herself to be lifted by two strong arms. Arms that cradled her in warmth and safety.
Was she hallucinating or was this heaven?
Her world became a shifting reality as she drifted in and out of awareness. All she could think of was the warmth, the rocking of a coach and the strong arms that held away the terror.
He had found her. Somehow her hero had found her and once again saved her. Deep down, she was not surprised.
The next time she returned to the real world, she was floating on a soft cloud. Surrounded by candlelight and the presence of a large man.
She was in his bed, she realized as her heart melted. He had saved her and brought her back to his bed. Not the Dowager’s house. Not some hidden hideaway. But his very home.
Smiling weakly, she studied him. His chin rested on his chest as he slept. He looked tired. As if he had been worried about something for a long time. He is so handsome she thought. And he had saved her again. Was any woman ever so lucky to have such a hero?
It would be impossible to leave him once again. No. Never again. She would be his mistress and grab fleeting moments of happiness until he was finished with her. It was all she could do. She would never have the strength to walk away.
No, he would have to dismiss her.
She didn’t care what Mrs. Jensen, the other staff, or even greater London thought of her. She would be this man’s lover for as long as he wanted her. Her heart broke thinking about losing him one day. But she could do no else.
The door opened gently behind him. Ann glanced up to see Mrs. Jensen poking her head in. The housekeeper smiled widely when she saw that the patient was awake.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Jensen said as she pushed him in the shoulder. “She’s awake.”
A Duke's Desire (The Duke's Club Book 1) Page 15