But now she had choices. If her family acknowledged Magda, then overnight she would become wealthy and well-connected. She could go to Russia to seek out her new family, and no doubt they would arrange a splendid future for her. Any taint of scandal in far-off England would no doubt be overlaid by the novelty of her return.
“Did your friend at the Foreign Office suggest this marriage? Or did you simply decide that the benefits of a connection at the Russian court outweighed the disadvantages of marrying a wife with no social graces? You’ve probably known about this for days, and have been waiting till you could use this to your advantage.”
He knew she was lashing out to cover her own pain, but her rejection of his offer still hurt. Did she really value him so little?
“Can you honestly think I would hide such a thing from you?”
She shook her head. It was good to know that she still had some trust in him.
“I came to tell you as soon as I heard the news from the Foreign Office,” he said. “No one has pressured me into any decision. I asked you to marry me several days ago, because I thought we would suit well together. I still think that is true.”
“But do you love me?”
It was the question he had dreaded. He did not know what to say. Magda was dearer to him than any woman he had ever known. He felt deep friendship, and a desire for her that was more than casual lust. But was this love? He hesitated, and the moment was lost.
“I don’t—” he began, but she held her hand up to his lips, cutting off the words he was about to say.
“You do not have to apologize,” she said. “Your offer does you credit but what I want from you is not kindness or pity. I love you, but I will not marry a man who can not love me in return.”
His heart skipped a beat as the meaning of her words sank in. She loved him. He took a deep breath, but whatever he meant to say vanished along with his rational mind. He had uttered words of love a dozen times before in the course of casual dalliances. But now he knew not what to say. He did not know what he felt. But he was more determined than ever not to let her go.
Chapter 12
Lady Stanthorpe accepted the news of Magda’s new status with equanimity. “Of course, I have always known that you were a true lady,” she declared. “I knew it from the moment I met you. Good breeding always shows.” She made no reference to the fact that in their first encounter Magda had been merely a hired entertainer, grateful for the opportunity to earn a few coins. “When do you think Count Grazinsky will arrive? We must be ready to show him our hospitality.”
Magda tried to put a damper on Lady Stanthorpe’s enthusiasm. “I doubt he will come himself. Even if he simply writes, it may be months before we hear anything. With Russia still allied to Napoleon, it is impossible to send a letter directly. Everything must go through a neutral country, and that will take time.”
“Of course he will come. How could he miss the chance to meet his beautiful granddaughter?”
Magda knew that her grandfather could be dead, or too ill too travel. Or he could have a dozen granddaughters already, and one more would make no impression. But the part of her that had always longed for a family found herself hoping that he would come to see her.
Lady Stanthorpe surveyed the drawing room, frowning as her eyes lingered on the blue silk drapes. “I only hope there is time to make this place presentable. This room is positively dowdy, and those drapes must be replaced at once.”
Magda could find nothing to fault with the room, for in truth it was a favorite of hers. The walls were a light shade of blue, with white moldings and cornices. The deeper blue of the drapes picked up the darker tones of the woven carpet. “This is a very comfortable room,” she said. “And did you not replace those drapes only this spring?”
“But it is not at all the style. The Prince Regent has declared the Oriental to be the epitome of elegance. I wonder what Lord Stanthorpe would say to redoing this room à la Chinois?”
Magda blinked, unable to see the logic of redecorating the room in the Chinese style in order to impress a Russian Count. But these past weeks had taught her the futility of trying to argue with Lady Stanthorpe when her ladyship had one of her inspirations.
“We must go to the warehouse at once to gather samples of wall-coverings and designs,” Lady Stanthorpe declared.
But Magda was in no mood to endure one of Lady Stanthorpe’s shopping expeditions. Pleading a headache, she finally convinced Lady Stanthorpe that she would be best served by a walk in the park to clear her head.
The spring air and warm sunshine did indeed do wonders to revive Magda’s spirits. It was still a novelty for her to be strolling on such a pleasant day, with no occupation or errand to claim her time. The park was empty, save for a few children and their nurses and a courting couple holding hands as they sat on a bench. Magda wandered slowly along the flower beds, admiring the delicate spring blossoms. The rose bushes already had dark new leaves and tiny buds forming, hinting at glories that would appear in summer.
The garden would be a glorious sight in June, and she looked forward to seeing it, for she had made up her mind that she would not run away. She would remain with Lady Stanthorpe as her companion, and if Alexander found the situation uncomfortable, so be it. If he wanted her hand in marriage, then he could use the opportunity to convince her that he felt more for her than mere duty and obligation.
If not, there were other choices. She could remain with Lady Stanthorpe as a companion or seek out other employment. Or perhaps her mother’s family would claim her after all this time. For once, Magda was content to let the future take care of itself and to give herself up to the enjoyment of the day. Perhaps some of Lady Stanthorpe’s sunny nature had finally rubbed off.
She took a step, then paused as a sudden pain stabbed her foot. Bending down to remove the offending stone from her shoe, she did not see anyone approach until it was too late. A rough hand yanked the hood of her cloak over her head, while another hand held a foul-smelling cloth to her face. She struggled and kicked, but it was for naught as the darkness closed in on her.
Alexander stared at the neat column of figures, then put his pen down with a sigh. It was not that the ledger held bad news. On the contrary, his investments were prospering. But these days not even the promise of a healthy profit could focus his attention. Instead he was gripped by a strange listlessness that cast a pall over all the activities he had once enjoyed.
He heard the study door open and looked up to see Luke enter.
“Is something wrong?” It was unusual for Luke to leave the offices so early in the day.
Luke surveyed his partner curiously. “Do you even know what is in that ledger?”
“Accounts.” He wasn’t sure which accounts they were, but it was bound to be a safe answer.
“And the reason why you sent for them, rather than coming to the offices yourself? Your employees are starting to wonder. You haven’t been down at the offices for a week now, not even to inspect the shipment that we just received. It’s not like you.”
“Tell them that how I choose to run my business is my own affair. If they have misgivings then they are welcome to seek employment elsewhere,” Alexander said shortly.
“She refused you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, dammit,” he growled.
“How could any woman refuse you, with all you have to offer?” Luke asked. Alexander glanced over, but there was no trace of Luke’s habitual mockery.
Because I offered her everything except a declaration of love, Alexander thought. But he was not about to admit his weakness to his friend. “Magda will come around in time,” he said, affecting an air of confidence.
“Indeed,” Luke said drily. “But to take your mind off your troubles, I have a diversion for you. Barnaby Grimes is waiting in the foyer. He’s been watching Sir Charles Applegate for us. Apparently someone neglected to inform him that his services were no longer required. In any event, he came to me to report. I told him that we’d
caught our villain, but he still insists on reporting to you.”
“Very well, I will speak with him,” Alexander said. It was bound to be a waste of his time. Barnaby Grimes was one of the runners. Not a particularly bright lad, but if you told Barnaby Grimes to watch someone, he would follow the scent with the diligence of a foxhound. Unfortunately in this case, someone had forgotten to tell the hound that the hunt was over.
Luke disappeared and returned a moment later with Barnaby Grimes in tow. “Afternoon, my lord,” Barnaby said, twisting his cap between his hands.
“Luke said you wanted to speak with me?”
“Yes, my lord. I dunno if it’s worth anything to you, but since no one told me different, I’ve been tagging along after that Sir Charles.” Here Barnaby paused to shoot an accusing glance at Luke.
“Don’t worry. I’ll see you get paid for your time,” Luke said. “I am certain it was our error.”
Barnaby gulped and nodded. “Very kind, Mr. Luke. Anyway, as I was saying, I followed Sir Charles last night. He went down to a tavern near the docks. A low place, you know, not the kind of place a gentleman goes. Well I go in after, and I see him talking to Big George Hake.”
“And?” Alexander prompted.
Barnaby appeared astonished that they had not heard of this character. “Well, I knew then it was trouble. Big George’s boys are the most feared gang on the wharves. You don’t go to Big George, not unless you have a spot of real dirty work you want done. No, Big George’s boys are for making someone disappear real quiet like, so that the body is never found.”
Alexander felt a prickle of unease. His intellect told him that there was no reason for concern. Magda’s attacker had been apprehended. And yet, with the untimely death of d’Aiguillon, there were still unanswered questions. D’Aiguillon had confessed to the murder of Magda’s mother, and was implicated in the attempt to poison Magda. But no link had been found to tie him to the first attempt on Magda’s life.
Could it be that he had been wrong? That there had been not one but two villains? It seemed a farfetched notion. And yet—
“I don’t like the sound of this. Do you want me to find out what Sir Charles is up to?” Luke asked.
“Yes. And I will go see Magda and warn her to be careful. Fortunately, we still have our men at the Stanthorpe residence.” Magda would not appreciate his concern. She was bound to think that he was just manufacturing trouble so that he had an excuse to watch over her.
And it could be that she was right. Any logical man would tell him that he was chasing shadows. But when it came to Magda, Alexander found it hard to be logical and dispassionate.
He arrived at the Stanthorpes’ within the hour. As he mounted the steps, he noticed with alarm that the front door stood wide open. Inside, he found two footman quarreling in the foyer, while Lady Stanthorpe tried vainly to calm them.
His arrival had gone unnoticed. Alexander cleared his throat, then said, “May I be of assistance?”
His tone was quiet, but it caught the attention of the unruly servants.
“Alexander, thank goodness you are here,” Lady Stanthorpe said, coming forward to grasp his hand. “The most dreadful thing has happened.”
“Yes?”
“They took her. Kidnapped her from the park, right in broad daylight. Who could have imagined such wickedness?”
“Her?” He felt a sickness in his stomach, even as he held on to a desperate shred of hope.
“Magda. Mademoiselle Beaumont.”
It was the very thing he had feared. He could feel his chest constrict, and he had to force himself to breathe. “When did this happen?”
“Just before noon it was,” the younger footman replied. Alexander recognized him as one of the Stanthorpes’ regular servants. “I was following Mademoiselle, but I stayed back to give her a bit of privacy. It all happened so fast. They bundled her into a carriage almost before I knew what was happening. I followed as far as I could, but I lost them when they got near the docks.”
The docks. Home of the ruthless Big George, who specialized in making folks disappear. Alexander’s fists clenched in helpless rage. Magda had trusted his word that she was safe. And he had failed to protect her. He swore that if—when—he got her back, he would devote the rest of his life to taking care of her.
He forced his mind to concentrate on the task at hand, channeling his anger and fear into forming a plan of action. He could not give in to blind panic. Not while every tick of the clock meant another minute that Magda spent in danger. It was up to him to save her. There was still time. There had to be.
“Come with me and show me exactly where you lost them,” Alexander told the young servant.
Then he turned to the older footman, whom he recognized as being one of the men he had installed to watch over Magda. By rights, he should have accompanied Magda on her walk. But much as he wanted to lash out at someone, this was not the time. “You—send word to Bob Parker at Bow Street. Tell him what has happened. Then go find Luke. He may be at Sir Charles Applegate’s residence. If not, try his usual haunts.”
“I’ve already notified Bow Street and sent a servant to find yourself and Luke, sir,” the older footman replied.
Good. At least someone was using their wits.
“You will find her, won’t you?” Lady Stanthorpe asked anxiously.
“Of course,” he said. He had to believe that she was still alive. The alternative was unthinkable. “I promise I will bring her back unharmed.”
And when he found her, he would never, ever, let her go.
Magda awoke to darkness. She tried to sit up but fell over, for her arms were bound behind her. Her mouth was filled with the bitter taste of the foul drug they had used, and she began to cough. She struggled to control the noise, hoping her captors would not realize that she was awake.
This could not be happening to her. Not now, not after all she had been through. Hadn’t she earned the right to some peace? Her mind turned toward Alexander. Did he know that she was missing? Was he frantic with worry? Or annoyed that she needed to be rescued yet again? How he would scold her when she saw him, and he would be right to do so. She should have trusted his instincts when he said that she was still in danger.
Straining her ears, she heard the sound of lapping water. Could she be on a ship? But surely a ship would pitch and roll, while the room she was in seemed steady. She heard voices, but could not make out the words. The voices drew closer, then there was silence, followed by the sound of booted feet coming down a staircase.
The unknown persons reached the bottom of the stairs, and began walking toward her. As their feet struck the wooden floor, each step had a strange, hollow sound. Combined with the constant sound of lapping water, it could only mean that she was in a building near the docks, perhaps in one of the floating warehouses. Her heart pounded as she heard the two men draw near. She strained her eyes to see, but she was still in darkness. She renewed her struggles and finally managed to sit upright.
“See? Just like I told ye. All trussed up like a Christmas goose,” a man said.
Rough arms reached for her and hauled her upright. Barely able to stand, she was half dragged a few feet then pushed down onto a stool.
“I’ve waited long enough for this,” a second man replied. There was something familiar about his cultured voice. “But later is better than never.”
There was a faint chinking sound as coins changed hands.
“Pleasure doing business with ye, gov. Sure you don’t want me to stick around?”
“No, no, I can handle her well enough.”
“Suit yerself,” the first man replied. There was the sound of his feet climbing the stairs.
She heard footsteps behind her and felt the brush of his hands against her hair. She jerked her head away.
“Stay still or I’ll never get this off.”
She realized that he was trying to undo her blindfold. His fingers fumbled for a moment at the knots and then the cloth fell aw
ay. Her eyes opened to the gloom of a small room, illuminated only by a solitary lamp that stood on the table before her. Crates stacked against one wall confirmed her guess that this was some sort of warehouse. She turned her head, trying to catch a glimpse of her captor.
It was Sir Charles Applegate.
“You?” she asked incredulously.
He stepped in front of her. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and his pale blue eyes seemed to bulge even more than usual. His thin lips were pursed tightly together, giving the appearance of petulance and determination.
“This is all your fault,” he said. “You should have accepted my invitation to dinner.”
Magda shook her head, wondering if she was still dizzy from whatever drug they had used. “My fault?”
“Yes,” Sir Charles said. “I should have taken you seriously when you predicted that Foolish Pride would lose. There were only two people who knew that for sure, myself and John Blackwell. But it seemed like a coincidence. Nothing to worry about, until Lord Kerrigan got stirred up and started sticking his nose into everything. I sent some lads to find out what you knew, but the incompetent bunglers let you escape.”
Had it been Sir Charles pursuing her all along? Over that stupid horse race? It was patently unfair that her one botched reading could cost her her life. For there was no mistaking that she was in deadly danger. Once Sir Charles realized that she had no special powers, he would have no reason to keep her alive.
Her mind flashed to Alexander and thoughts of rescue, but she knew she could not wait. Even if Alexander knew she was missing, it would take him time to find her. Time she did not have. She refused to sit quietly and await whatever fate Sir Charles had planned for her. She would find her own way out of this trap. Surreptitiously she tested her bonds. The ropes around her wrist were tight, but as she twisted her hands she felt the rope slip a fraction of an inch. It was a start.
Sir Charles continued his diatribe. “First you disappeared, and then John Blackwell got himself killed. But I was safe. No one suspected anything, not even Lord Kerrigan or his tame runners.”
An Unlikely Alliance Page 16