Seduction Regency Style

by Louisa Cornell

  “Reach in my coat, Miss Birkchester,” Porter ordered. “There’s a note there.” He eased his grip on her arm.

  Robert saw Miss Birkchester’s eyes narrow.

  “Grace,” Cecilia said, voice laden with warning.

  “Miss Birkchester, we’re in a narrow corridor and that’s a double-barreled pistol.” Robert kept his tone even. “Get the note. I’ll be well enough in Mister Porter’s care for the time being.”

  Miss Birkchester pressed her lips tightly closed and nodded. Hand trembling so much that Robert could discern the movement from where he stood, she reached into Porter’s coat. After a few fumbling moments, she pulled out a folded page.

  “That’s a good girl,” Porter said. “Now, get over there with them.” He gave Miss Birkchester a shove.

  Robert caught her as she stumbled forward. He kept his eyes on Porter, releasing Miss Birkchester into Cecilia’s arms. He heard a quick intake, more sob than breath. He didn’t look, but doubted the sound issued from the diminutive marchioness.

  “Everyone back out that door, slow,” Porter said. “Don’t forget, as his lordship pointed out, I’ve got two chances to kill you.”

  Robert pressed the ladies behind him. He hoped they wouldn’t run screaming once they reached the alley, for he could see in Porter’s eyes that the man wasn’t bluffing. He would shoot, even if that meant putting a bullet in a lady’s back as she ran from him. Robert felt better placed between the ladies and the gun.

  Porter kept pace with them as they backed up, just out of reach but too near for Robert to risk yanking the door closed between them. En masse, they made their slow way into the alley behind the lecture hall. At the far end, Robert could see inviting daylight and glimpse passersby. None of that world intruded into the shadows of the dank alleyway.

  Reaching back without looking, Porter pulled the door closed behind him. He let out a loud whistle. Robert heard one of the women behind him jump.

  There was a scuff of feet. An unkempt head poked over the edge of the roof above and behind Porter. Dull eyes brightened as they took in the two women standing behind Robert. “Here, boss.”

  “Bring the carriage ‘round to the mouth of the alley.”

  “Yes, boss.” The unkempt head disappeared.

  Porter gestured toward the distant street with the pistol. “Ladies, it’s time for you to depart. Now, lest you meet any members of the watch out there, or even some helpful seeming citizenry, keep in mind that if I’m pressed, I’ll flee, but before I do, I’ll shoot Lord Robert in the head.”

  “And what of Lord Robert?” Lady Cecilia asked, voice steady. “Where will he be? How shall we get your ransom to you?”

  Porter’s smile was mocking. “Such intelligence, for a woman.” The pleased flicker in his eyes bespoke some reaction from the women, but Robert didn’t turn to look. “When you reach your lovely townhome, open the letter. There are instructions.” He flicked the cocked pistol at them again. “Now off you go.”

  “I’ll make this right.” Lady Cecilia’s whispered words barely reached Robert before two sets of light feet hurried away.

  He hoped she would not. He wanted nothing more than for the two women to safely reach William. He didn’t like the way Porter looked at Cecilia. Even the miscreant on the roof had taken a moment to leer his appreciation. A kidnapper, one Robert was certain was no stranger to murder, could decide at any moment that two hostages were worth more than one and that Miss Birkchester was fully capable of carrying a letter on her own.

  “Now, my lord, a carriage is going to pull up at the mouth of this alley,” Porter said. “We’re going to walk down and get inside. I’ll have this pointed at you the whole time.”

  “Noted.” Robert tried to contain the urge to dart his gaze about. He required a weapon. A discarded bit of wood. A length of rope. Anything to bridge the gap between him and Porter before the man could shoot.

  Porter nodded with his chin, keeping the double barrels of the pistol directed at Robert’s chest. “Turn around and start walking.”

  Robert spun, happy to be able to peruse the alleyway. His gaze caught on a broken box near the end. Could he wrench free a board fast enough to turn and smash—

  The handle of the pistol slammed into the base of Robert’s skull in an explosion of pain. He slumped to the ground as consciousness fled.

  Chapter Ten

  Cecilia was more than furious. How could she misjudge Mister Porter so terribly? She’d all but handed Lord Robert to the man. Within her, the same anger, the vehemence she’d found in Dame Parson’s library, blazed like a house on fire.

  “Give me that note,” Cecilia hissed as soon as she and Grace rounded the corner onto the sunlit street alongside the lecture house.

  Grace didn’t halt her hurried pace.

  “Grace, show me the note.” Cecilia grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.

  Grace let out a yelp loud enough to startle a passing horse. The man astride cast them a glare. Cecilia matched it. He kept riding.

  Grace turned a white face toward Cecilia. “That hurt. He wrenched my shoulder.”

  “Oh,” Cecilia yanked her hands from Grace’s arm. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “We can’t stop. We need to take this note to the watch.” Grace started to turn away.

  “No,” Cecilia said. “We’re taking it to William.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Grace shook her head. “What can Lord William do?”

  Cecilia could very well imagine what William could do. He spent his nights in hidden war with just the sort of man Mister Porter was. “Give it here.” She snatched the note from Grace’s hand and tore it open.

  We require artifacts of value. You shall write to Lord Robert’s partner, Mister Darington, and have him send us a shipment of treasure from Egypt. If we’re satisfied, we’ll return the duke. As we realize this will take time, we shall contact you in four weeks with a location to which you must bring this ransom. If you go to the watch, we shall kill Lord Robert and come after Lady Lanora Greydrake instead.

  Cecilia swayed. She reached out a hand toward Grace, but pulled it back, belatedly recalling Grace’s injured shoulder. Oh, how their lies haunted them. Mister Darington, a figment of Lord Robert’s imagination, created at the behest of the dead marquess, could no more ship Egyptian treasures than Cecilia could.

  Grace’s eyes were huge with worry in her chalky face. “What does it say?”

  A somewhat decrepit carriage rolled by. Cecilia craned her neck to watch it roll up to the mouth of the alley. She turned back and pressed the note into Grace’s hands. “Please, take this to William. Not to the watch. Not to Lanora. You must give it to William.”

  Grace frowned. “Surely--”

  “Please, Grace,” Cecilia pleaded. “I know William. Know him through and through, and you must take this letter to him.”

  “Where will you be?” Grace asked with sudden panic.

  Cecilia looked over her shoulder again. With the carriage so near the mouth of the alley, it was difficult to see, but it looked as if someone was being pushed inside.

  “You can’t mean to follow them,” Grace gasped.

  “I can and I will. This is no time to argue with me, Grace Birkchester.” Cecilia employed Lanora’s trick of using Grace’s full name. “Now find William. Hurry.” Trying to be gentle, she took Grace by the shoulders and turned her away, in the direction their conveyance waited, and gave her a push. Grace let out a yelp but her feet started moving.

  Cecilia turned back toward the alley. Afraid to walk alongside the carriage there, she crossed the street and scurried up the other side. When she reached the corner, a glance back showed the man from the rooftop climbing back into the driver’s seat. He lifted his whip.

  Cecilia pulled her gaze from him and turned to survey the front of the hall. Relief fit to make her faint coursed through her at the sight of the waiting vehicles. She’d feared that with Lord Robert’s presentation over, there wouldn’t b
e any more hackneys for hire there. She ran up to the nearest enclosed hackney and knocked on the side to get the driver’s attention. The carriage containing Lord Robert came around the corner and turned up the street. Cecilia ducked her head.

  “Can I help you, miss?”

  “See that carriage there?” She pointed to the back of the carriage as it slowly merged with other wheeled traffic. “Can you follow it without being noticed?”

  The driver frowned. “Now, see here miss, I won’t do anything unlawful like.”

  Cecilia’s mind raced, ideas swirling. She mustered a tragic expression. “It’s not unlawful, tragically. It’s a matter of the heart. My betrothed is in that carriage. I must know if he’s betraying me. Please, won’t you help me?”

  The driver scratched at his bearded chin. Cecilia worked not to climb up and shake him. The carriage was drawing farther away.

  “Well, all right, but it will cost you double the going rate.”

  Cecilia yanked the hackney door open. “Charge me what you like. Only, don’t lose that carriage.”

  The driver’s eyes went wide and took on an avaricious gleam. “He won’t evade us, miss, never you fear.”

  “Thank you.” She clambered in and pulled the door closed. They lurched forward. It took Cecilia only a moment to realize the hackney had very worn springs.

  She settled into the seat as best she could, relieved the rickety conveyance had no reason to attempt speed. She fumbled in her reticule and pulled free a ten pound note. Surely, that would satisfy the man? She hoped so, for she had little else with her.

  Note clenched in her hand, she turned her face toward the window. She dared not stick her head out to gauge their success in trailing the carriage. The act would call too much attention. She could only sit, watch the shops, other vehicles and pedestrians, and listen to the babble of the city.

  How had she let this happen? With Everly, she had the excuse that his mother was kind and he was a relation of Lord Robert, but Mister Porter? A random gentleman she found hiding in an alcove at the theatre? How could she be so naive as to encourage his acquaintance, let alone bring him within ten yards of anyone she cared for? She was no wiser now than at sixteen, when she hadn’t realized the marquess was vile until the moment he struck her on their wedding night.

  Cecilia tamped down tears. She swallowed several times, trying to rid her throat of an annoying, painful lump. She raised her gaze to the patched, torn cloth lining the hackney ceiling. If she fixed this, if they got Lord Robert back unharmed, she would listen to Grace’s judgement from now on. She swore she would.

  The hackney rumbled along for an interminable time. Without, the buildings grew shabbier and the streets less crowded. Cecilia bit her lip, hoping the driver wouldn’t balk. Having never been to a poor part of London, she had no guess as to how disreputable the areas they drove through were. Finally, they came to a jerky halt.

  “Miss,” the driver’s voice was nearly too low to hear. “They turned down that alley there, to the right. It’s a dead end, I know. He must be going inside, though I can’t imagine what sort of woman would be in such a place.”

  Cecilia peeked out the right-hand window. The building was squat and large, with few windows. It took her a moment to realize the off-kilter shape, dark stains and sunken portion of roof that dominated a large section of the structure were mute testament to past fire. The street outside was empty. Cecilia eyed the half-burned building with trepidation, less brave now that her anger had dulled.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re about?” the driver cried.

  Cecilia jumped, startled.

  “I’m a friend of her ladyship and I need to talk with her.”

  Cecilia’s head swiveled toward the sound. Was that Dodger’s voice calling from the left-hand side of the hackney?

  “Your ladyship, tell him I’m a friend.”

  Yes, definitely Dodger, but how? Hoping the ruckus wouldn’t attract attention from occupants of the half-burned building, Cecilia stuck her head out. Dodger, dressed not in livery but in street garb, stood a few paces back from the hackney. The driver waved his whip menacingly.

  “He’s a friend,” Cecilia called.

  The driver turned a suspicious look on her, eyes assessing. “You do have money to pay, miss?”

  “Of course, she does,” Dodger snapped. “And it’s your ladyship. She’s a lady.”

  “I have money.” She extended her arm out the window and uncurled her fist to reveal the crumpled note.

  The driver’s eyes went wide. “I can’t make change for that, your ladyship.”

  “You won’t need to, so long as you agree to service for the remainder of the day.”

  “You can’t give him all that, your ladyship,” Dodger said.

  The driver shot him a scowl, half-raising his whip.

  “Service for the remainder of the day,” Cecilia reiterated.

  The driver turned back to her. “Your ladyship, you can have service for the remainder of the season for that.”

  “The day will do.” She assayed a smile. “Dodger, please give this to the man and then get in.”

  Dodger approached slowly, a wary eye on the whip-wielding hackney driver. He took the note and passed it up. Cecilia could see the reluctance on his face. It crossed her mind to wonder how much a hackney driver earned. No wonder William and Lanora were always going on about the disparity between the gentry and the poor. Knowing what her gowns cost, she was dismayed at the importance ten pounds held for Dodger and the driver. Note passed on, Dodger pulled open the hackney door.

  Cecilia slid over to give him room on the single seat. “What are you doing here?” she demanded as soon as he entered, her voice filled with relief rather than reprimand.

  “His lordship often has me follow you, your ladyship.”

  Cecilia’s eyebrows shot up. “He does?”

  Dodger nodded. “He worries about you. Now I see why.”

  She leaned back in the hole-ridden seat, stunned. William often had Dodger play tiger when she went out. She hadn’t realized he also followed her when she didn’t know he was there. It was touching, and aggravating. Worse, it was obviously necessary. She shouldn’t be let out unsupervised.

  “Your ladyship?”

  “Yes?” She was less fit to wander the streets of London than a boy of fewer than ten years.

  “I didn’t see much, keeping out of sight like I was. Why are we here?”

  “Lord Robert.” She paused and cleared her throat. “He’s in that building with his kidnapper and likely the kidnapper’s coachman, and who knows who else.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Dodger,” Cecilia gasped, shocked by the boy’s crassness.

  “I beg your pardon your ladyship, but this ain’t good.”

  “I know.” Cecilia controlled a wail. “And it’s all my fault. I sent Grace for William, but how will he find us?”

  “You have to take the hackney and get him,” Dodger said. “The driver will be able to tell him where we are.”

  Cecilia bit her lip. If she did that, William would come, but he would forbid her to return with him. Mister Porter had threatened several times to shoot Lord Robert. If he carried out the threat, Cecilia would need to be here. If anyone was injured, she could help. She knew what to do much better than Dodger, or William. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to Lord Robert and she wasn’t able to help him in time.

  “You take the hackney,” she said. “Get William and my medical bag. I’m very worried I may need it. Mister Porter struck me as a man ready to do violence.”

  Color leached from Dodger’s face. “Mister Porter? Tallish, thin man with a hawk nose?”

  Cecilia nodded, her fear for Lord Robert heightened.

  “Your ladyship, you have to get away from here. Porter is a villain.”

  She shook her head. She already knew that. “I will not leave here without Lord Robert. There is no sense arguing with me. We’re squand
ering time.” She held up a hand when the boy opened his mouth. “I won’t go in that building. I’ll hide.”

  Dodger sent a look past her, toward the half-burned structure. “His lordship is going to kick me out, back onto the street,” he muttered. He turned to Cecilia. “You keep the hackney and stay in it. If anyone comes over here, you have to go. I’ll tell the driver so.”

  “Don’t you need it more?”

  “I can get to his lordship quick enough on my own, and we don’t want the driver seeing him, or knowing where he lives. Anyways, he’ll be at the lecture hall by now, or closer, following the trail. Once I find him, I’ll go for your bag, your ladyship.”

  “You think William is on his way?” Cecilia was shocked at the boy’s guile. “You said I needed to take the hackney home to fetch him.”

  A flush returned color to Dodger’s cheeks. “So as you would go.”

  Cecilia stared at him. She’d no idea Dodger was so shrewd. No wonder William relied on him so heavily. “Well, I am not going, but you’d best. Time is our enemy.”

  Dodger regarded her, his face a caricature of conflict.

  “Go,” Cecilia pressed.

  Finally, Dodger nodded. “I’ll tell the driver to take off if anyone comes near.”

  He opened the door and hopped out, then closed her in. She slid across the seat to listen as he gave the driver orders. Once she was certain Dodger wasn’t actually telling the driver to take her away, she inched back over to the right side of the hackney and peeked out.

  The street remained empty, the building lifeless. Time ticked by. Cecilia chewed on her lip, then realized she was and forced herself to stop. She tapped her fingers on the hackney door, then halted that movement as well. Her world pared down to the half-burnt building and controlling every muscle of a body that vibrated with worry.

  Something moved on the building’s roof. She jerked forward to peer out. A familiar, lean, dark-clad form slipped down the front of the building. He seemed to cling to the very wall. He stopped at one of the few windows and carefully pulled back one cracked shutter. After a quick glance left and right, William slipped inside.