by Sadie Bosque
“It’s a long story.” Blake made a dismissive gesture with a wave of his hand. However, he should have suspected this wouldn’t deter his friend.
Jarvis settled comfortably in his chair with a great show. “I am not in a hurry,” he said and raised his eyebrow in defiance.
Blake closed his eyes and swallowed against the horrifying memories. “There’s not much I can tell you. I was seized after I left Hades gambling hell that night. Surely, you remember. I’d had a fight with Annalise earlier and was in a dark mood.” Blake remembered the events of that night vividly. He’d played them out thousands of times in his head. “I was tired, but you didn’t want to leave yet. You said to take your carriage and instruct it to return for you because you wanted to stay a few more hours.”
Blake looked down at his drink. Somehow, staring into the depths of a glass of brandy made it easier to talk than looking at his friend’s face.
“I don’t think I ever reached your carriage,” he continued with a sigh. “I think I was hit over the head because I lost consciousness for a while. In fact, I still don’t remember exactly where they grabbed me and how. The last thing I remember is exiting the hell.”
“You didn’t.” Jarvis’s voice penetrated his thoughts, and Blake was forced to raise his eyes again. “Reach the carriage, that is. I didn’t know that at the time, but you never reached the carriage.” He heaved a sigh. “When I came out of the hell, it was several hours after you walked out. I found my carriage where I left it, but I assumed the driver took you back home and returned for me, per your instruction. It wasn’t until a day later when I came to call on you that Annalise said you’d never returned from our previous outing. She wasn’t worried. In fact, she was preparing to leave on a journey, I believe, although I do not remember where. She said it wasn’t the first time you were away for several nights at a time.”
Blake closed his eyes against the dagger-like pain those words inflicted on him. He knew exactly where Annalise was going and why. Away from him, because he had acted like a total arse. Hearing just how much he’d hurt Annalise that by the second month of their marriage, she was used to his absences and was ready to leave him, grated more than he was willing to admit to his friend.
“But then I talked to my driver to find out where you went after the gambling hell, and he said he never saw you that night.”
Blake nodded. It made sense. If he had been taken from the carriage, everybody would have started looking for him. Perhaps they’d have been able to find him. But there was no way of knowing that for sure, and he didn’t want to dwell on what-ifs.
“When I came to, I was in a dank, filthy basement by the port. I don’t know exactly where. I’ve never found that out. I don’t know how long I was out before I woke up, or even if it was the first time I woke up after being taken. The only thing I remember is the smell of moldy stones and the sounds of waves. Perhaps I’m misremembering. It was a confusing time. I was drugged and beaten.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands. “Then, it got worse. They wanted some information, something I knew nothing about, but they didn’t seem to believe me or care. They just… delighted in torture.”
“What did they want to know?” Jarvis asked with a wince, and Blake just shook his head.
For some reason, he wasn’t comfortable telling Jarvis the entire truth yet, that he was tortured on account of a boogeyman. It was painfully embarrassing.
“Some nonsense. I don’t recall. I was out of it most of the time, and I had no idea what they were talking about.”
“How long did they hold you? Don’t tell me you’ve spent all this time—”
“No,” Blake interrupted hastily. “No. Once they realized they would get nothing out of me, their leader ordered them to kill me. Instead of doing me in there, as I thought they would, they”— he paused and swallowed—”they sold me to some slave ship. I suppose I was worth more that way, rather than dead.”
Jarvis blinked at him as if startled, lost for words, and Blake laughed bitterly. “What followed was five agonizing months at sea. Taking beatings, cleaning other men’s shit, slaving away. Long story short, I and a couple of others managed to escape. We jumped overboard near one of the Indian ports and swam for the shore.”
Of course, it wasn’t as easy as that. The memory of his escape still haunted him to this day. The entire ordeal did. He shook his head. “It wasn’t smooth sailing after that either; we didn’t have any clothes or money. But we were lucky enough to get hired on one of the British cargo ships. Unfortunately, it was sailing a long way before returning to England. But at least we had food, a roof over our heads, and were not slaving anymore. It took me seven months to get back to England. You know the rest.”
Jarvis scratched his jaw. “And you have no idea who did this to you?”
Blake just shrugged. “No. However, I did go see Ford, the thief-taker, last night. He will know where to start looking, I am sure.”
“The thief-taker.” Jarvis let out a snort. “I doubt he’ll be able to help. He didn’t find you then either, did he? Besides, it’s not much to go on if you don’t remember what information they wanted from you. I’d suppose the start would be to question Hades. But we tried that before. Nobody is able to get anything out of the man.”
Blake frowned. Hades was what everybody called the owner of the hell Blake and Jarvis had been in the night of his disappearance. The man was a criminal and held power over half the city, including most of the high society. His clubs were aptly named Hades, and since nobody knew his real name, people chose to call him the same.
“I don’t suppose he’ll be ready to confess.”
“No, of course not.”
Blake brought his drink to his lips. The smell of brandy hit his senses. One part of him wanted to take the drink and soothe his raw nerves, another part of him knew he had to give up the habit. He sighed wearily and placed the drink back down.
He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Of course, he would do anything to find the bastards and make them pay. The idea that they would come after him again shook him to the core. But talking to Jarvis about it wouldn’t yield any results. Perhaps, it would only drive him to drink again. But he couldn’t allow that to happen.
His mind, however, kept working at the mystery of who the culprits might be.
What if the thugs who took him were hired to do so? What if the man behind the curtains had nothing to do with them and just paid the blokes to get rid of him? In that case, they could have used the Shadows tale to try and throw people off his trail. On the off chance that his enemy was clever and cunning enough to anticipate Blake’s escape, he might have concocted the story of torturing the information out of Blake, all the while having other nefarious plans for him.
Blake furrowed his brows as he stared into his glass. Or perhaps the Shadows story was for the thugs’ benefit. Not a lot of criminals would go for seizing and torturing—much less killing—a peer. If found out, they would be prosecuted under the penalty of death. So they could have used the bandits’ nightmare story to control the thugs while needing Blake dead for some other reason. And that opened—
“What are you thinking?” Blake was distracted from his thoughts by Jarvis’s gruff voice. “You seemed like you were contemplating something very grave.”
“Actually, I was thinking about what we might be having for supper this evening.” Blake forced a smile. “I haven’t eaten a hearty English meal in… well, in over a year now. Today’s breakfast notwithstanding. Would you care to join us?”
Jarvis flashed his characteristic, charming smile. “I would love to, but I suppose you and your wife need some catch-up time.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and roared with laughter.
If you only knew.
Jarvis stood and clapped Blake on his shoulder. “No need to stand on my account, old man. I’ll see myself out. You’ll tell me if you need anything, won’t you?”
“Of course.” Blake nodded and sat back in his chai
r, watching his friend leave.
His earlier gloomy thoughts came back to him now as he sat there contemplating the vacant seat in front of him. If indeed his disappearance had nothing to do with this Shadows business, then perhaps he ought to look at the people who’d benefited most from his demise. He lowered his head and absently looked through the ledgers. Townsend was definitely at the top of that list.
Blake moved slightly away from his desk so he could access one of his drawers and took out a bulky leather journal. He flipped it open to a fresh page, dipped his quill into an inkwell, and scribbled at the top of the page:
Possible plotters behind my capture:
1. Townsend. Motive: Earldom.
He tapped the quill against his chin, squinting at an unseen point at the farther side of the wall, thinking. Then returned to the journal with a new entry:
2. Kensington. Motive: Annalise.
He thought a while more before dipping his quill in ink and scribbling for the third time:
3. Jarvis. Motive: unknown. Suspicion basis: last person to see me.
He swallowed as he looked over his writing. This wasn’t much to go on. More than that, he’d just written down three people who were arguably the closest to him. Well, perhaps not Kensington. They were friendly but not close friends. Kensington was a lot closer to Annalise and obviously cared about her a lot.
Blake eyed his name and motive for a moment before taking up his quill again. With much hesitation, he wrote down another name:
4. Annalise. Motive: freedom.
The Courtship
Spring 1739
The clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece of the drawing room, measuring away the allotted fifteen minutes. A good portion of those fifteen minutes had already passed, yet Annalise’s suitor, Lord Norfolk, had yet to say a word. He’d cleared his throat about a dozen times, cleaned his glasses, and shifted in his seat, but so far, he hadn’t spoken.
Annalise sat on the settee, her hands demurely folded on her lap, a blank look in her eyes, and a fake smile stretching her cheeks. She thought her face was going to crack in two if she had to smile any longer. Why did he even bother to call on her if he had nothing to say to her at all? Although perhaps she should have been more grateful that anyone sought her out after her behavior at the ball the night before.
The main reason for her irritation was not the suitor currently occupying her drawing room, however. It was the suitor who had not shown up at all.
Annalise peered at the clock again, hoping the arrow would move faster than it did.
Her mother nudged her discreetly on her side, and Annalise heaved a sigh.
“Beautiful weather, isn’t it, Lord Norfolk?” she asked with a strained smile.
“Indeed.” The man grinned at her and continued staring at her in silence.
Annalise briefly closed her eyes and prayed for patience. “Did you enjoy the ball last night?”
“Oh, absolutely,” the laconic man answered and smiled.
Several more beats passed. Annalise stifled a yawn.
“Would you like to go for a ride in my barouche tomorrow afternoon?” the man finally asked, and Annalise was tempted to groan.
No, she wanted to yell and run away from the room. And she would do so too if her mother was not sitting on the same settee as her and looking at her sternly.
“It would be my pleasure, my lord,” Annalise answered tightly.
Norfolk stood, looking pleased with himself, and made a few steps toward Annalise. He took her hand and placed a slobbery kiss on her knuckles. Annalise restrained the urge to twist her hand away, unpleasant shivers running up and down her spine.
As Norfolk bowed out and left the room, Annalise collapsed against the back of the settee with an audible sigh.
“Why are you acting like this?” Her mother narrowed her eyes on her. “Norfolk is of suitable descent. He is absolutely agreeable and would be perfectly suited for you. It was your first ball. You have a perfect gentleman visit you today despite your abominable behavior, and all you do is sulk! You should be grateful, you—”
Her tirade got interrupted as the butler knocked on the door and entered the room.
“Flowers for Miss Annalise,” he said with a bow.
The next moment, a dozen footmen filed into the room carrying vases with beautiful dark red roses. Annalise’s mouth dropped open, and she rushed to smell and touch them. Could it be? Are they from him?
“A note, my lady,” one of the footmen said and extended her a short missive.
Annalise smiled brightly as she opened the note, but her eyes widened as she read it. It had four simple words.
Look out the window.
Annalise picked up her skirts and scrambled to the window. She saw a phaeton in front of her house, with two gleaming mounts. A man stood next to the animals, a hat in his hand, a smile on his lips. Blake. The man she had been waiting for the entire afternoon.
“Mama, another suitor!” she exclaimed and giggled uncontrollably while running toward the door.
“The visiting hours are over,” came the bewildered voice of her mother behind her, but Annalise wasn’t paying attention anymore. She was hurrying down the stairs.
Annalise flew into the front hall and was about to flee from the house only to come to a halt as the stately figure of her father stepped in front of her.
“No running like that in the house, young lady,” he said harshly. “Especially not to meet a gentleman who couldn’t be bothered to call during the acceptable visiting hours.”
“But, Papa—” Annalise tried to peek behind her father and see if Blake was still there.
“I shall talk to the young gentleman outside, and if he wishes to court you, he’ll have to do it in a manner propriety dictates.”
“But—”
“No,” he said harshly. “He either courts you properly or not at all.”
Annalise downcast her eyes and took a step back. Her mother appeared from behind her at the same time and ushered her back to her room.
The next day, Annalise sat in a barouche next to Lord Norfolk with a grimace of quiet resignation on her face. Her father had kicked Blake out the day before, and she hadn’t heard from him since. She had hoped he would send her a note or call on her the next day, but he didn’t. She flipped her fan open and closed several times, looking at the crowds of people around them. Other barouches stopped by their side occasionally. The occupants exchanged gossip and idle chatter and moved on.
It was a beautiful, sunny day. She was out in the park with a suitor, like she had dreamed thousands of times before. She should have been happy. But her mood was sour, and she was counting the seconds until this outing was over. At least Norfolk had spoken a few sentences today. She supposed it could have been worse.
Annalise heard the loud hoofbeats of an approaching mare before a rider caught up to them and slowed down to match their speed.
He took off his hat and bowed with a flourish. Annalise turned and froze, warmth unfurling in her chest, a genuine smile appearing on her face.
“Miss Annalise.” Blake leaned in, took her hand, and bowed over it. Annalise’s hand tingled at the contact. “Norfolk.” Blake gave a brief bow.
“Moore.” Norfolk parroted the action.
“What beautiful weather, wouldn’t you say?” Blake grinned at Annalise, and she bit her lower lip. “I would say it is perfect for a short stroll,” he continued.
“I am perfectly comfortable in my barouche,” Norfolk answered, and Blake raised his brow at Annalise.
Her eyes widened for a brief moment before she made a decision. “I would love a stroll.”
Blake flashed her a wide smile, cantered ahead, handed his reins to Norfolk’s groom, and slid off the horse. He then walked to the side of the barouche, opened the door, and offered his hand to Annalise.
“What are you doing?” Norfolk barked, sounding confused and irritated.
“Taking Miss Annalise for a stroll,” Blake said, seem
ingly unperturbed, and gave Annalise a wink.
Annalise stretched her arms toward him, and he handed her down.
“Here, now, Moore! This isn’t done!” Norfolk protested.
But Annalise wasn’t listening to his sputtering anymore. She was distracted by Blake’s dark brown eyes staring straight into her soul and by the warmth of his hands holding her by the waist.
When she hit the ground, she was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed, her eyes frantic. Blake held her a little longer than was strictly necessary or proper. He then offered his arm and turned to Norfolk.
“Nothing improper is going on, Norfolk. I invited you both for a stroll, and you refused. You wouldn’t deprive a lady of a walk because of your stuffiness, now would you?”
“But—”
“Thank you for agreeing to watch over my mount for me. We’ll be back in a flash.” With that, he turned and ushered a giggling Annalise away.
They walked a few paces in silence. Finally, Annalise looked at him from beneath her eyelashes and said, “I didn’t expect to see you here. Or at all, for that matter.”
Blake grinned as he looked at her. “Your father might have inadvertently mentioned yesterday that proper suitors show up on time and invite ladies out for a ride in the park in advance. Like the—oh, so respectable—Lord Norfolk, who did just that. So, I’ve decided to join your rendezvous.”
“If anybody noticed my defection from Lord Norfolk’s barouche, there will be a scandal.”
“Oh, I do not doubt it.” Blake grinned at her wolfishly.
They greeted a few couples promenading in the park before Blake looked around and suddenly led her away to a narrow path among the trees.
“Where are we going?” Annalise giggled as they hid away from the afternoon crush in the park.
“Do not fret, my dear. I shall have you back in a jiff.”
He stopped a few feet away from the main path and turned Annalise so she was standing with her back against the tree, facing away from the crowd. She should have been alarmed. Blake’s behavior was less than gentlemanly, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be bothered. The truth was, her heartbeat accelerated and her cheeks grew flushed the moment Blake was anywhere in the vicinity, and it seemed like all the heat turned her brain to mush.