A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset

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A Rake for All Seasons: A Regency and Victorian Romance Boxset Page 21

by Samantha Holt


  Never mind. She had time to worry about that. Her hired thugs were paid well enough to keep the contact locked away until she could at least get a message to Reed. It really was astonishing how much easier money made life.

  Orelia nursed a weak ale and kept her cloak tucked over her head in an attempt to not draw attention to herself. She had only been here about an hour but already several patrons were drunk and singing. She took a sip of her drink and managed not to grimace. It would be worth it, she assured herself. The truth would be worth it.

  The candle on her table grew short as the evening passed. She eyed the globs of wax as they poured down into the metal holder. The singing ceased and a few snores emanated from the patrons who had started drinking early on in the day. Several were slumped across tables and benches. She didn’t envy the innkeeper when the time came to clear them out.

  Her hired men gave her a look of frustration. No doubt they had been looking forward to getting their hands dirty. She looked at Thomas who shook his head.

  Sighing, she stood and approached the men. “Looks like you will not be needed tonight. Can you return tomorrow?”

  The largest one nodded. “If we get paid.”

  “Of course.”

  He glanced at his friend. “Then we’ll be back tomorrow.”

  She turned to Thomas who sidled up behind her. “Let’s leave it for tonight. He’s clearly not coming.”

  Thomas nodded. “I am not sure he’ll come at all. Maybe he won’t.”

  “Maybe, but we must try. Will you come back tomorrow?”

  He grimaced. “This is dangerous.”

  “It’s surely more dangerous to have that man out there. What if he decides you know too much?”

  His face paled a little. “I’ll be here tomorrow,” he said, his tone resigned.

  They stepped out of the inn and something in the periphery of her vision made her turn. Too late though.

  Everything went dark. She couldn’t breathe. She scrabbled at the sack thrown over her head, but her hands were pinned in the embrace of what felt to be a brawny man. She screamed against the fabric, but it was muffled. She heard Thomas’s stifled shouts. Had he befallen the same fate? What was happening?

  Panic engulfed her. Her breaths grew shallow and her head swam. The more she fought, the fainter she felt. The iron grip around her body would not ease so she forced herself to relax. Taking breaths against the thick fabric of the sack was not easy but her head cleared enough for her to analyze the situation.

  Someone had her and Thomas captive. The man holding her lifted her, so her feet dangled. He had to be tall. The world tilted briefly, and her side hit the ground hard, making her cry out. Shards of pain speared her side and knocked the air from her.

  While she fought to drag in breaths with the fabric covering her mouth, someone grabbed her legs and bound them together. She tried to kick but succeeded in only having her legs tied more tightly. Next her hands were tied behind her. The ropes dug into her flesh and made her hands tingly. If she tried to move, the ropes burned into her skin.

  There was a thud beside her and she felt a body next to her. She rolled into it and placed her hands onto who she assumed was Thomas. She called his name and he made a muffled response. They were both bound, their heads covered. For whatever reason, someone wanted them captured. Perhaps she had been too clever telling Thomas the culprit wanted him dead. It was quite likely they would want them both dead, especially if they had known how close to the truth she was.

  Her throat tightened. She wasn’t ready to die. She had only just begun living. Reed had given her that. Not only financial freedom but he had opened her eyes to a world outside of the Romani life. Romanies prided themselves on being free yet how free had she really been? Warm tears trickled down her cheeks.

  A door slammed shut and the floor beneath her moved. A carriage, she realized. They were in a carriage. Where were these people taking them?

  ***

  Reed and his brother arrived at the inn shortly before closing, having fought their way across town through late evening traffic. Reed barreled inside and approached the first man he could find. Then the next, then the next. None of them had seen Orelia. He glanced at his brother, who kept a pistol tucked carefully under his jacket folded across his arm. They were putting themselves in real danger, presenting themselves in their finery at this inn but it was necessary.

  Had he missed her? Or had he been wrong? Perhaps she had no intention of going through with their plan.

  “I’ve seen a woman,” a large man leaning against a wooden pillar said.

  Reed whirled. “Dark hair? Beautiful?”

  He shrugged. “Wouldn’t say that beautiful but she had dark hair. Slightly dark skin too.”

  Eyeing the giant of a man, Reed neared. “Was she here tonight?”

  “Yes. Got herself in a pickle too.”

  His heart thrust against his chest. “What do you mean?”

  “Think she was up to no good. She paid me and my brother there” —he thrust a thumb toward another large man pestering the innkeeper for more drink— “to kidnap someone. Only they never turned up.”

  Reed held back a groan. Noah would not be able to see the man’s lips clearly enough to understand the conversation but he clearly sensed things were not good. He shifted closer.

  “We are drawing attention, Reed,” he hissed.

  Reed nodded. “Where did she go?”

  The man hefted up one shoulder. “She was with some man. He had a limp. There was some kind of scuffle and they were put into a carriage.”

  “Put?”

  The man smirked. “Very well, they were tied up and thrown into a carriage.”

  “God Almighty. Why the hell did you not do anything to stop them?”

  He shrugged. “What could I do? They were long gone before we realized what had happened and neither of us knew who she was. Damn shame. We were hoping to earn a bit more money off her.”

  Reed curled a fist then released it. “Where did they go?”

  “Headed down Queen Street. Toward the docks I suppose.”

  Icy fear washed over him. He could only think of one reason to tie someone up and take them to the docks and it was certainly not to catch a ship.

  He didn’t bother saying anything else to the man or to Noah. Grabbing his brother’s arm, he raced out of the inn and mounted his horse. His brother followed him. All he could do was pat his arm and sign ‘trust me’ due to the limited visibility of the street lamps.

  He set off at as brisk a pace as the cobbled streets allowed, weaving between the buildings. If she had only just been taken, he might catch up with her.

  What would he do if he did not?

  Life without Orelia was inconceivable. He’d known that since he’d left for London.

  He eased the horse to a trot once they neared the first buildings around the docks. Several ships could be seen farther out, their lamps reflecting on the dark sea. The creak and tinkle of the ropes against wood was about the only sound. Reed came to a stop and dismounted before signaling to his brother to do the same. He pressed a finger to his lips and tethered the horses on a nearby post. Whoever had taken Orelia could not know they were there.

  He tugged out his pistol and Noah followed suit. They loaded them and edged around the buildings. Sure enough at the end of the main road to the docks was a carriage, its doors wide open.

  They inched around it. Crates were scattered across the area between the ships and the buildings, so they used them as cover. He checked back to ensure his brother followed. A muffled scream made them still. Reed peered over the crate they had hidden behind, and his chest felt like it had been crushed in a vice.

  He would recognize her anywhere, even with a bag over her head.

  There were three men that he could make out. Two were trying to handle a wriggling Orelia while the other dealt with another man—also bound with a sack over his head. Reed had to assume it was Thomas. The men dragged Orelia closer t
o the water and Reed’s worst fears were realized. What better way to rid themselves of someone causing trouble than to tie them up and let them drown? No one would find the bodies if weighted and no one would come looking for them.

  Apart from him.

  He tapped his brother’s gun and motioned to the men. He ensured his own pistol was ready. He had no idea if the men were armed but they at least had their hands full with a wriggling Orelia.

  “Stay,” he mouthed to his brother who nodded. ‘Shoot,’ he motioned. “Soon.”

  He trusted his brother to decide when the best time to shoot would be.

  Reed’s time to act was now, however. Any longer and Orelia would be in the water. He sprinted forward and barreled past the first man toward the second, drawing their attention. A fist came toward him, but he ducked it, bringing his own up in return and striking the second man on the jaw. Agony tore through his knuckles as they struck bone.

  He whirled, pistol in hand and brought the butt of it down onto the first man’s head as Reed scrambled to his feet. The man collapsed. As Reed turned his attention to the other two men, a gunshot echoed through the night. He froze only for a moment when something hot seared his arm. Another gunshot followed and in the chaos it took him a moment to realize the second man was down. He glanced back long enough to see smoke coming from his brother’s position.

  Reed lifted his own pistol at the final man who responded by lifting his own weapon. Orelia wriggled in the man’s hold. With his brother’s shot already used, Reed had only one shot. With Orelia so close, he could hardly risk taking it, not with how unreliable pistols could be.

  “Give her to me,” he said quietly, “or my brother will shoot you.”

  Orelia gave a muffled squeal against the sack at the sound of his voice.

  The man shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think he has another shot.”

  He would, in time. But they didn’t have time.

  “Give her to me or you will die.”

  The man smirked, raised his pistol higher and pushed Orelia into the water.

  “No!”

  Reed leapt forward. He shot at the same time. Bangs ricocheted around him. A blur of movement revealed his brother jumping onto the man and beating him with the butt of his gun. Both of their shots had gone wide it seemed. Or he hoped. All he could think on was getting to Orelia.

  “Go,” his brother said.

  He wasted no time kicking off his boots and diving into the water. Orelia’s body bobbed for a mere moment before going under, sinking into the inky blackness of the ocean.

  The shock of the freezing water stole his breath. He instinctively reached out. She had to be here, only feet from him surely? He opened his eyes but could see nothing. Only dark emptiness surrounding him. He kicked up and took a quick breath, searching the surface for her. A tiny trail of bubbles popped on the surface.

  Pushing back under, he went deeper, reaching out.

  There. Fabric. He snatched it and pulled. He pulled again until he felt the weight of it. He prayed it was her. Dragging her, he surfaced and hauled her into him. With shaking hands, he yanked the sack from her head and continued to kick to keep them afloat. Orelia could do nothing but gasp for air and keep her weight on him.

  “Reed,” she gasped, her teeth chattering.

  “I’ve got you.”

  “Reed,” she only managed to say again.

  He helped her over to the edge of the docks, swallowing a good deal of water in the process. With the aid of his brother, he pushed her up to safety then Noah helped him haul his sodden self out of the water.

  He slumped back to catch his breath before rolling onto one side. Noah sliced away the ropes from Orelia’s ankles and wrists.

  “Is...he...alive?” Reed asked of the third man, motioning quickly with his hands.

  “Yes,” Noah confirmed. “Though he will wake up with a nice headache. That one is dead.” He tilted his head toward the one whom Noah had shot. “And that one is tied up.”

  He peered around at Thomas who was nursing his sore wrists and keeping watch over the first man. Then he turned his attention to Orelia who lay next to him. “Are...you...well?”

  She gave him a weary smile. “Yes.” Her eyes widened. “You were shot!”

  He peered at where she was looking. Lifting away the torn fabric, he spied the scratch from a bullet. It had created a decent path through the muscle of his arm and looked a little grizzly but was clean enough. “I’ll survive.” He reached for Orelia and drew her into him. They lay in each other’s arms for a moment—a wet, breathless embrace. “Do not do that to me again,” he scolded.

  “Never.”

  “At least not without me.”

  “Never,” she promised again.

  “Reed?”

  Noah’s uncertain tone made Reed lift his head. He hastened to standing at the sight of a man with a pistol aimed at Noah. Orelia released a tiny cry and tried to stand but Reed positioned himself in front of her, lifting his hands slowly.

  His heart sank to his toes. Even though it was dark, he remembered this face—the Frenchman who tried to hurt Orelia at Thomas’s old house.

  The man swung his gaze between him and Noah. Reed’s brother had his own gun aimed at the man but Reed doubted he’d managed to reload. Reed could rush at him but he risked the man shooting Noah.

  He uttered a curse under his breath.

  A scrabble of movement from Orelia caught Reed’s eye and the Frenchman hesitated for a moment. It was enough. Reed barreled forward at the same time as Orelia did and they pushed the man to the ground. The pistol flew from his hand and Orelia raced to snatch the weapon and aim it at the man.

  “Non, non, s’il vous plaît. I mean you no harm.” The Frenchman lifted his hands from his position on the ground.

  “Why did you try to hurt me then?” Orelia demanded.

  “I could not have you English interfering.” He lowered his hands slowly and pushed up to standing while Orelia kept her weapon pointed at him.

  Reed eyed the man. “Interfering?”

  “The attempt on l'empereur…we feared it was a Frenchman—one of the men on St. Helena. There are those that wish to go back to war but it has taken too great a toll on our country.”

  “Still no reason to attack her,” Reed said through gritted teeth.

  The man swiped his hands down his trousers and straightened. “If you found out that we suspected Napoleon’s most trusted man, it would put all agreements with the English at jeopardy. I am sorry for harming you, mademoiselle, but we could not have you discovering the truth.”

  “These are not Frenchman, monsieur,” Reed pointed out.

  The man nodded and drew in a long breath. “Oui. We were wrong it seems. I received word from France that our investigations had come to nothing. Then I followed you and it became clear the English were behind it. Though, why, I have yet to fathom.”

  Reed motioned to Orelia to lower the pistol. “What have you told your superiors?”

  “I reported back, and they wanted me to keep an eye on the situation. I saw the mademoiselle here taken but I do not know this town like you do, monsieur. I regret it took me longer than I would have liked to catch up with them.” The French spy gave Orelia a regretful look. “The government has no wish to go back to war. If you can uncover the people behind the attempts, we will interfere no longer.”

  Reed nodded slowly. “You will return to France right away?”

  “Oui. I do not do well in this cold climate.”

  Chuckling, Reed motioned to the injured men. “We shall have them talking before long.”

  The Frenchman blew out a breath. “I wish you luck, monsieur.”

  Reed drew Orelia into him. Somehow, with her at his side, he suspected he did not need it.

  Epilogue

  “Stop touching!” Reed’s mother barked.

  Orelia dropped her hand from her hair and whirled away from the mirror she’d been standing in front of. She dre
w in a breath and faced the dowager duchess, twirling the large ring that adorned her finger.

  “And stand straight,” the woman commanded, moving closer.

  Orelia drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders. Resplendent in jewels, feathers, and silk, Reed’s mother came to Orelia’s side, walking as though she were gliding across the floor. Orelia suspected she could be wearing a servant’s dress and still look like a duchess.

  Unlike herself.

  She looked at the floor where delicate slippers peeked out from underneath her lemon-yellow gown.

  The dowager duchess put a finger under Orelia’s chin and lifted it so she could not shirk her gaze. “Do not look at the ground. Carry yourself with grace. Carry yourself like the duchess you are.”

  Swallowing, Orelia tried to crush the swarm of nerves curdling her insides. She’d been a duchess for all of a week now and she could still not get used to it. After a rather rushed wedding, she and Reed had not had time for a honeymoon what with questioning the men from the docks and chasing down the final leads. Still, after tonight, their mission would be complete and they would be able to have some time alone. Perhaps that would give her the time she needed to get used to her new status.

  She took a sideways glance at the mirror and grimaced at her reflection, eyeing the curl she’d managed to tug free. How could anyone ever get used to such a thing, especially a Romani?

  Reed’s mother moved around her and artfully tucked the curl back in place, restoring the careful hairstyle the lady’s maid had taken so much time over. “You look…beautiful, Orelia.”

  Orelia opened her mouth then shut it. The slightly soft look in her new mother-in-law’s eyes made her tongue feel like it was tangled. The dowager duchess had not been thrilled at the idea of their marriage, but she seemed to be softening, especially after Reed announced he would be spending more time at home, splitting the ducal duties with Noah.

  “Like a true duchess,” the woman added.

  Orelia’s gaze shot to hers. “Truly?” The word came out choked.

  A smile curved her mother-in-law’s lips. “You really do. Just carry yourself with that courage I know you have.”

 

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