by Cheryl Bolen
Two deeply disappointed females followed her back to his house.
Sophia had the odd feeling that she was being watched, but when she glanced to the South Audley entrance to the square, she saw no one. Then she turned to look at the Duke Street entrance. Nothing. She satisfied herself the mysterious thief must still be watching from one of the neighboring windows.
As the ladies were divesting themselves of their outerwear in William's entry hall, the door burst open. Sophia whirled around to face a band of six men – sinister looking, all of them. Her first thought was that these were the same men who had stolen the gold.
Then she recognized one of the men.
He was one of Lord Finkel's servants. He's sent them to get me. Her heart thundered in her chest.
The young footmen attempted to confront the men, and one of them ruthlessly butted his musket into the gangly lad, knocking him to the floor.
The library door banged open and William charged into the hallway. “What's going on?” His stricken gaze went from Sophia to the intruders. He froze.
The man in the center directed his musket at William. “I'll jest relieve ye of two of these women, Mr. Birmingham.” The man's glance moved from Dorothea to settle on Sophia, and he smiled. His teeth were rotten.
Afraid William would be killed trying to do something heroic, Sophia spun around to face him. “It's all right. I must return to my husband. Please don't try to overpower these men. I shouldn't like to see you killed.”
She moved toward the man wielding the musket. Then her silent sister joined her. Maryann stood near the stairs, weeping.
“One more thing, milady,” the gang's leader said. “We'll be needin' that valise you stole from his lordship.”
The banged-up valise? It was a wonder she and Dottie hadn't thrown it out since it was so shabby. Then she stiffened. Hadn't Devere told her that Finkie was keen to get his hands on the valise?
All of a sudden, she knew where the vile man kept his incriminating papers. That explained why he had kept it in his library. She had to think of a way to convey this information to William.
She must try to make them believe the valise in her room was the one Finkie wanted. She tried to gather her poise. “You'll find the valise upstairs in the second room on the left, the Blue Room.”
Her room.
A minute later one of the men returned with a dark green valise. She prayed none of the men remembered what Finkie's looked like.
“Before you take me away, sir,” Isadore said to the man with rotten teeth, “I beg that you allow me to kiss my lover good-bye. I promise to go quietly after that.”
The swarthy man peered from her to William, then he nodded.
William looked puzzled as she moved to him, her back to the men. She came so close he unconsciously drew her into his arms and began to lower his head. Just before his lips brushed across hers, she whispered. “You must get the valise from Dorothea's room. Lord Finkel must have hidden something there. Then, pray, round up your soldiers and get me away from Lord Finkel's.” Her arms came around him, and she settled her lips upon his for a long, passionate kiss.
He looked stunned when she turned and walked away.
* * *
Once the door slammed behind the ruffians, Thompson, sword in hand, came rushing down the stairs. “They've taken away Miss Dorothea! No telling what those cutthroats will do to her.”
William held up a halting hand. “We'll go after them. Just not now. Come with me to Miss Dorothea's bedchamber.”
Thompson gave him a puzzled look.
“There's something in that chamber that will ensure the man responsible for the ladies' abduction will give them up.”
In Miss Dorothea's chamber, beneath the high poster bed, they found a shabby gray valise. Even after all these days, it was still damp from the night they'd met at the Prickly Pig. How long had they trudged through the rain?
He opened it and noticed an even bulge under the lining on one side. “Pray, give me your penknife,” he said to Thompson, who stood over him.
His servant proffered the instrument, and William used it to pry open the seam. He felt the heat of Thompson's body directly behind him, peering over his shoulder. The opened seam revealed a flattened pouch made of thin oilcloth that had been folded over in much the same way as foolscap. “What have we here?”
He unfolded the oilcloth, found three stacks of handwritten pages, many of them letters. He quickly scanned just a small portion of the first sheet. He felt disgustingly like a voyeur. Half a page was enough to tell him he was reading a torrid love letter, and the crest on the paper indicated the author was Lord Wakefield, a peer who held a high office in government. No doubt, the letter had been written to a woman who was not his highly respected wife.
“It appears the oilcloth protected these pages from the effects of the rain that night we were returning from Yorkshire,” William said.
“I take it they're important?”
“They're worth a great deal of money to Finkel. He obviously needs these to blackmail at least a dozen people.” Though he hated looking through such personal papers, he wished to find the one incriminating Isadore's sister and restore it to her. Twice he looked, but never saw the name Theodora. Nor did he see the name Isadore anywhere.
“When do we rescue the ladies?” Thompson asked.
“Very, very soon, my good man.” He had to get Isadore away from that mad man. What if Finkel tried to force himself on her? It made William sick. “I've got to get to Finkel's before they discover they've got the wrong valise. You're to go to Nick and tell him everything. We'll need the soldiers. And have him put these in his safe.” He handed Thompson the oilcloth filled with papers. “Once I'm armed, I'll go out the front; you go out the back.”
At least no one was watching his house from the square, William thought as he rounded the corner to the mews to get his horse, his senses alert. A knife was safely tucked into the specially made sheath inside his boot, and his hand cradled the hilt of the sword at his waist.
As he neared the livery stable, he slowed. Something was wrong. His mount should have been saddled by now and partially out of the darkened mews.
“Jonah?” he called out to his groom.
There was no response.
He stopped and drew his sword.
Just as three members of Finkel's “gang” stepped out, Rotten Teeth holding a dagger to Thompson's throat.
“If ye value yer man's life, ye'll drop that sword,” the man with rotting teeth said.
* * *
As she entered Lord Finkel's house, the very same servants who had been tied with her dress sash the morning after she'd met William watched her through narrowed eyes. Now it was she who had her hands bound behind her.
“Some very disreputable men you employ, my lord,” she said to their employer, her voice full of malice.
“That is exactly why I employ them, my dear.” He stood in his drawing room, a glass of dark liquid in one hand and a satisfied look on his face. “How good it is to see you again, Lady Finkel.”
“Don't call me by that odious name. I have no intentions of staying married to you.”
“You'll not be getting away from me.” His voice was guttural. “I will have my way with you, and I'll have your fortune, too.”
“But you cannot want me now that I've been another man's lover.”
He cursed and hurled his glass against the stone chimneypiece. “You will pay for that. You lover, of course, is William Birmingham, is it not?”
She thought of William Birmingham, of being his lover, and her heart softened. But she refused to discuss that fine man with the personification of evil who stood before her.
“I will crush him.”
She laughed. “You're nothing but a weakling who has other men do his wicked deeds. Mr. Birmingham fights his own battles.”
“I never said I'd crush him in an even fight.” There was so much hatred in his voice and in his flashing black eyes that it
frightened Sophia. She was sorry she'd involved William in her problems. Finkie could kill him.
Then she would either enter a convent or pitch herself from the top of St. Paul's.
Actually, splattering herself was infinitely preferable to bedding Finkel.
“You're not nearly as powerful as you think you are,” she continued. “True, you manipulate people's lives, but you'll never have authority over me. I'll leave you the minute my hands are unbound.”
He came closer, lowering his voice in a most sinister fashion. “Then, my dear, it appears I shall have to see that your hands stayed tied.” His gaze flicked to the servant William had trounced that morning after they left the Prickly Pig. “Take Lady Finkel to my bedchamber, and have Frockmorton bring me the valise.”
The brute came up from behind, closed burly arms around her so tightly it hurt, then began to lug her—kicking like a windmill—across the room, then up the stairs.
Chapter 19
All William could think of was Isadore. He had to get to her, had to save her from being debauched by that worm Finkel. Yet he was powerless. He dropped the sword, and one of Rotten Teeth's underlings scurried to pick it up.
“I've held up my part,” William said. “Now remove that dagger from my man's throat.”
His gaze not leaving William's, Rotten Teeth moved the knife but did not sheath it. “Get in here,” he said to William, a swing of his head pointing back into the mews.
It was so dark within, it was a moment before William saw that his groom had been bound and gagged.
Their captors set about roping his and Thompson's hands. A sense of hopelessness engulfed him. He could not bear to think of Finkel laying a finger on the beautiful Isadore, could not bear to think he might never see her again.
Damn but it was hard to believe he'd known her less than two weeks. She had gripped his heart so thoroughly he did not care if she was wed to another, he did not care if she smuggled gold bullion. All he cared about was loving her.
“What are your plans for us?” he asked Rotten Teeth.
“We've merely been instructed to keep ye out of his lordship's way until he can get out of Lunnon with the lady.”
Had the man's sword plunged into him, William could not have felt more pain.
He'd never felt so impotent. The woman he loved was in grave danger, and he was unable to help her. Unless . . . “Well, then,” William said, plopping down on a mat of fresh hay, “I believe my man and I will relax and wait.”
Thompson knew what to do. They had been together so long they could almost read each other's thoughts. Thompson dropped into the hay beside him.
His idea must have sounded good to his captors because the three sat right down on the dirt floor just where the sunlight's line of demarcation fronted the stable.
The darkness of the stable was in William's favor. He waited a moment, waited for the men at the front to get caught up in a conversation, then he reached his hands into the top of his left boot. Given that his hands were tied at the wrists, it was a very tight squeeze, but his patience paid off a moment later when he unfastened his sheath and pulled out his knife. He cut Thompson's ropes, and Thompson took the knife and cut his.
Halfway between him and the captors, his sword gleamed on the stable floor. He knew if he dove for it, they would hear him, but it was risk he had to take.
For Isadore.
He whispered instructions to Thompson, who kept the knife.
Then he dove for the sword.
All three men leapt up at the sound, knives drawn.
But as they watched William, Thompson disabled the man closest to him, which caused the others to flinch, giving William the split second he needed to lunge into Rotten Teeth—just as the man's knife came sailing toward William's chest. William dove for the man's feet, his own body slamming into the dirt floor with bruising force—and Rotten Teeth's knife grazing his back.
That William's sword had embedded into the other man's side rendered the man powerless to stop William from pummeling the third man until he begged him to stop.
With the three men writhing in the dirt, William instructed Thompson to tie them up, untie the groom, then head to Nick's. “Tell Nick everything. He must find the General and round up our men. I'm going to Finkel House to rescue the women.”
* * *
The Finkel carriage was packed for a journey. That no-good devil must have designs on Isadore! William's heart started pumping, and a sickness settled in the pit of his stomach. He hoped to God he wasn't too late.
If only he'd been able to come with some of the Birmingham soldiers—not because he was afraid of facing these cutthroats alone, but he feared the chances of a lone man succeeding against Finkel's vicious brutes was very slim.
He hurried up the steps to Finkel's house and tried the door. To his surprise, it opened.
He was quickly met by a well-built butler who was considerably larger than William. William's gaze went from the butler to the morning room, along the entry hall and up the stairs. “I've come for Finkel.”
The butler's eyes narrowed to slits and he spoke haughtily. “And you are?”
“The lady's lover.”
“You must leave at once.” The butler's genteel voice had taken on an accent of the lower classes. “His lordship's not in.”
William stood there in Finkel's entry hall and yelled. “Are you here, Finkel?
William heard the pounding of feet above and saw Finkel looking down at him from the landing on the next floor.
“I believe I have in my possession something you want, Finkel.” William held up the battered gray valise and began to mount the stairs.
“So you're William Birmingham.”
He came face to face with Finkel. “If you wish the return of this valise, you must release the lady.”
“I believe I'd be within my rights killing a man who tried to abduct my wife from her own house.”
His words cut through William like a dagger. Suddenly, he remembered all that had transpired in the entry hall of his own house when Finkel's gang burst in. Isadore had said she must go to her husband. He remembered that Finkel had forced her into marriage. He remembered too that she knew this house well enough to draw a diagram. It made him sick. Was she married to Finkel, not to Lord Evers?
But MacIver was never wrong.
William's breath expelled, and an insincere smile tweaked at his mouth. “You cannot possibly be wed to the woman you abducted from my house.”
“Lack of consummation does not nullify the fact that the woman is still my wife. I wed her almost two weeks ago.” His dark eyes flashed wickedly. “Tonight she will be mine.” He lunged toward William. “I'll just take that valise.”
“You may have it, but you'll never have her.”
“I always get what I want.”
William chuckled. “Including Lucy Mackenzie?”
Finkel froze. His face went ashen. “I know no Lucy Mackenzie.”
“You lie. She's your legal wife. I saw the proof in Yorkshire two weeks ago. Just because you were but one and twenty and foolish does not negate the deed.”
The very notion that Isadore was not a married woman made William feel as if he'd just drunk an entire bottle of champagne.
Finkel was silent for a moment. “That knowledge will die with you. Here and now.” Finkel screamed as loud as he could for his minions. “Come and slay the intruder.”
“There's a very big problem for you if something happens to me,” William said.
“And what might that be?” Finkel sneered.
“My brother knows I was coming here. And he has in his possession something which will prove by what illegal methods you've been restoring the Finkel fortunes.”
Finkel's gaze darted to the valise. “You found it. My oilskin pouch.”
William nodded gravely. “By now it's in the Birmingham vault. I know everything, including by which means you trapped your. . .wife into marrying a reprobate like you. I. Will. Expose. You.
”
“Of all the families in England,” Finkel said, shaking his head, his shoulders slumped, “it's my bloody misfortune to run up against the Birminghams, probably the only men in the kingdom who can't be bought.”
“In that, you are correct.” He came abreast of Finkel. “Where is she?”
Finkel tossed a defeated glance over his right shoulder.
William had to assure himself she was all right. Just as he started toward the room where he thought she was being held, he heard Finkel yell at his servants to ready the coach. “Never mind about Mr. Birmingham. We leave this moment!”
The first door William came to opened to a frilly lady's room, but Isadore was not there. He hoped to God Finkel hadn't been lying. Sighing, he went to the next room and pushed open the door.
It broke his heart to see her tied to a wooden chair.
* * *
She had prayed William would come before the vile Finkie did something thoroughly disgusting to her. How relieved she was. Now, she would neither have to join a convent nor splatter herself on the London pavement. She was so happy to see her beloved William she momentarily forgot about the rough ropes that scraped against her wrists.
William's eyes sparkled as he came closer, never removing his gaze from her. “I have a good mind to keep you tied up,” he said lightly.
She presented him with a flirty smile as he bent to untie her. “You're too much the gentleman.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“I just do.”
His hands stilled. He rested his full weight on his knees. Their faces were level, his eyes beginning to smolder. His proximity, his musky scent, his ruggedly handsome face were doing bubbly things to her.
She leaned into him, and he kissed her hungrily. Sweet Heavens! Kissing William Birmingham was the most pleasant experience. How could she have missed out on something this wondrous her first seven and twenty years?
Because none of those previous suitors was William.