After making his rounds, he went to a cell and unlocked the door. “Well now, my beauties, it’s old Tom, and he’s here to free you from this prison.”
The two women huddled against the wall. One spoke with anger. “We know where the women go when they leave here.”
Tom snorted. “That’ll save me the trouble of explaining it to you.”
The two women exchanged glances, but made no attempt to resist when he clapped them in chains and led them out into the dark corridor.
“Don’t make a sound,” he cautioned.
Down the long corridor they went until they came to a side door where the refuse was collected. Tom unlocked the door and pulled the women forward. He lifted them into a waiting garbage wagon, hiding them beneath large baskets.
He bounded into the wagon, picked up the reins and urged the nag forward, as he had done many times before. When the wagon rattled out the gates and they left Newgate behind, Tom laughed at his own daring.
“If you be clever, there’s always a way to outsmart others,” he said, pleased with his resourcefulness.
After they were safely away, he drove onto a deserted street and halted the horse. Beneath a pale moon, he unlocked the chains on the women’s wrists with a warning to them. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll not give me no—“
Tom never finished what he had started to say. While one of the women distracted him, the other shoved a knife in his heart and twisted it savagely. He fell forward, twitching and kicking, a baffled look on his face.
“If you be clever,” the woman mimicked, “there’s always a way to outsmart others.”
The women jumped from the wagon and faded into the dark shadows, while Tom drew his last breath in a heap of foul-smelling garbage.
* * *
Back at Newgate, the guards changed shifts, but no one went near the secluded cell where Kassidy lay unconscious. No one even knew she was there.
Kassidy awoke to the sound of water dripping. Frantically groping around in the dark, she felt a damp stone wall. Her head ached and she could not think clearly— why was she so confused?
Slowly she remembered what had happened to her— the abduction, the filthy man who put his hands on her. She remembered the lewd threats he’d made to her.
“No.” She sobbed, shivering with revulsion. In her agonized mind she was sure the guard had ravished her while she’d been unconscious. If only she could wash every part of her body that the vile man had touched.
She curled up in a ball and watched the first splinter of light coming through a high window. As the dark corners lightened, and her mind cleared, she looked around the tiny cell. There was a thick iron door with a small opening at the bottom, just large enough to push food and water through. High over her head was a tiny window with iron bars. She was lying on a lumpy mattress that had been placed on the damp stone floor. When she tried to rise, she discovered to her horror that she was chained to the wall.
Finally standing up on shaky legs, she found that the slightest movement rattled the chains at her wrists. She moved along the outer wall, noticing it was damp from water seepage. The floor was foul-smelling and slimy with filth.
“Dear God, what has happened to me?” Kassidy moaned.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping when she opened them again she would discover she was having a nightmare. But no, she was cold and began to shiver as deep, wrenching sobs built up within her. This was not a nightmare—it was real!
Kassidy wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. She wondered if she was going mad. In the distance, strange voices penetrated her consciousness. Some of them cried out with hopelessness, and others were harsh and commanding. Every new sound made her fearful that her tormentor would return. She huddled against the wall, feeling sick in mind and body.
All day Kassidy lay upon her straw mattress, too frightened to move. As the light began to wane and darkness fell, she still shivered from cold and fear. No one came to give her food or water, and she was so hungry and thirsty.
It was as though no one knew she was there, or they had forgotten her.
Finally, hearing heavy footsteps outside the door of her cell, Kassidy thought it would be the guard returning. But the footsteps faded away, and she drew in a relieved breath. Loneliness weighed heavily on her, and she longed for the sight of another human—but not the guard—please, God, not that loathsome man.
As the sun went down, Kassidy watched the corners of the cell fade into shadows and then total darkness encroached.
How long had she been there? There was no way of knowing. She turned her face to the wall, too heartsick to care what happened to her.
She buried her face in her hands as tears of misery rolled down her face. She wept until there were no more tears left. Then she fell asleep, resting her head on the filthy mattress.
Jack Beale watched his brother move up the back steps and enter the kitchen.
Slapping his cap against his thigh, Gorden shook his head. “That woman’s made dolts of us, Jack.”
“Didn’t she give you the money that was owed to us?”
“She told me she didn’t have it, but if we’d wait for three more weeks, she’d double the fee. Said she’d be coming into some money.”
Jack frowned. “And fool that you are, you believed her?”
It was raining, and Gorden removed his jacket and hung it on a hook next to the cookstove to dry.
“Didn’t matter if I believed her or not—she didn’t give me the money. What was I to do, wring it out of her?”
Jack stomped across the floor and yanked his brother forward by his shirtfront. “Why’d you come back without our hundred pounds? You should’a stayed with her until she gave you the money.” Jack shoved him angrily, and Gorden was slammed against the wall.
Rubbing his sore arm, Gorden tried to explain why he had returned without the money. “I couldn’t make her give me what she don’t have. We’ll have to wait, Jack. She’ll have to pay us sooner or later.”
Jack shook his head. “No one gets away with cheating me.” He rubbed his stubbly chin, and a twisted smile touched his lips. “She don’t know that we found out who she is. And I know more about the Maragon girl, too. I can make DeWinter rue the day she went back on Jack Beale.”
Gorden looked doubtful. “What are you thinking on doing, Jack?”
“DeWinter wanted the girl to disappear real bad. Suppose the girl was to get free?”
Gorden paled and ran a hand nervously through his thinning hair. “But the girl knows about us. If she talks, we’ll be the ones behind the walls of Newgate.”
“She knows nothing about us,” Jack said with confidence. “She was so scared she couldn’t tell anything about that night. She don’t even know our names.”
“What will you do?”
Jack’s eyes narrowed with speculation. “It’s just a matter of sending a letter to the right person.” His brows met across the bridge of his nose. “And I know just who to send it to.”
Lady Mary moved quickly up the steps of Ravenworth Castle. With an impatient breath, she brushed past the startled Ambrose.
“Show me to his grace at once,” she ordered. “Tell him Lady Mary Rindhold wishes to see him on a matter of great import.”
Ambrose was startled, but he nodded respectfully. “Will you wait in the sitting room, my lady, and I’ll tell his grace you are here.”
She followed him into the room. Perhaps the letter she had received was a hoax, but she had to know for certain. Until the anonymous letter arrived yesterday, she had despaired of finding Kassidy alive.
Now, unless someone were playing a cruel trick on her, perhaps the duke could help her untangle the mystery surrounding Kassidy’s unexplained disappearance.
The man who entered the room was younger than Mary had expected. He approached her with a look of curiosity, but his manner was polite.
“Lady Mary, I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, but I know your husband, Ge
orge, quite well.”
“George has told me that you served under Lord Wellington. He has related to me the details of your daring feat of heroism at Waterloo. He says Parliament was most impressed. I had thought you would be older.”
“You are too kind, Lady Mary,” he said, offering her a chair. When she was seated, he sat opposite her. “Ambrose told me you wanted to see me on an important matter.”
“Yes,” she said doubtfully now that she had met the duke. “I’m at a loss as to how you can help me, though.” She handed him a letter. “Perhaps this will explain my reason for being here. Although I confess, I do not understand any of this myself.”
Raile hurriedly read the letter:
Dear Madame,
If you wish to know about your missing niece, you might want to begin your search at Ravenworth Castle.
Raile handed the letter back. “I don’t understand how I can help you. I don’t even know your niece. I can assure you that she is not here.”
Lady Mary’s face showed her distress.
“I am as much puzzled by the note as you are. You have to understand I am so worried about Kassidy I can’t overlook any clue to her whereabouts.”
Raile saw tears gathering in her eyes.
“You’ll have to forgive me,” she said, feeling embarrassed, “but Kassidy is so dear to me, and she has suffered so much since the deaths of her mother and father and now her sister. Since her disappearance, my husband and I have searched everywhere for her. It’s as if she vanished into nothingness. Her brother, Henry, has already given her up for dead.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “You cannot imagine the grief I have lived through. First losing my elder niece, and now Kassidy. You see, they were the daughters of my dead sister, and I promised her I would look after them if anything happened to her. As you see, I have not fulfilled that promise.”
Feeling pity for the woman, but also discomfort, Raile reached for a decanter and poured a glass of sherry, then handed it to her.
“Drink this, Lady Mary, and then tell me how you think I can help.”
She took a sip and then pushed the glass away. “Please forgive me, your grace. I don’t usually act this way with strangers. It’s just that I’m so distressed. Kassidy was so alive—so sweet and kind. I cannot believe she is gone.”
“Perhaps you should start from the beginning. When did you last see your niece? And what is her full name?”
“Her name is Kassidy Maragon, and she disappeared about a month ago.”
Raile, good at schooling his emotions, did not flinch at the mention of the name “Maragon.” “What were the circumstances of her disappearance?” he asked.
Lady Mary wondered how much to confide to the duke. “You see, Abigail died in childbirth. Kassidy was with her at the end. I cannot tell you the guilt I feel for not staying with them until the baby was born. But I thought it was a normal birth.”
“I assume Abigail is Kassidy’s sister?”
Mary nodded hesitantly. “Yes, your grace, she . . . Abigail... died ... and Kassidy has disappeared.”
“Does your niece have flights of fancy?”
“I can assure you she does not. But I can see where you might think my whole family is demented.”
“Not at all,” Raile said graciously. “I believe I have met your niece, Kassidy, Lady Mary. Although at the time, I thought she was Abigail Maragon.” Raile watched Lady Mary’s face closely. “She came here to see me. Do you know anything about that?”
Lady Mary was genuinely shocked. “No. Why would Kassidy do such a thing? You weren’t acquainted, were you?”
“I never met your niece until she arrived with the baby.” Still he watched her face for a reaction. “She left the infant in my care and fled in a curious manner.”
Lady Mary shook her head in relief. “Thank God. I have been so worried about the baby. I am relieved to know that she, at least is safe.” She looked at him carefully. “She is well, isn’t she?”
“I can assure you the baby thrives. She is in the nursery upstairs.”
Lady Mary stared at him. “But why would Kassidy leave the baby with you?” She buried her head in her hands. “What trick is this? Why would she bring . . . unless ... but no you could not be . .. it’s too absurd to consider.”
“I can assure you I did not father the child, Lady Mary.”
She looked at the handsome duke for a long moment. Women by the dozens must fall in love with him. But, of course, he could not be Abigail’s elusive husband. He would have been out of the country when Abigail eloped.
“I just don’t know what to think. Did my niece tell you why she brought the baby to you?”
“She implied that I was the child’s father—or so I thought at the time. I don’t want to alarm you, Lady Mary, but she was not rational.”
“No,” Lady Mary agreed. “She probably wasn’t. She loved Abigail and had to watch her die.” She stood up. “I won’t trouble you any longer. If you will have the baby brought down, I will take her with me. There is no need for you to be involved in this any longer.”
“I am involved, Lady Mary, whether or not I want to be. Have you any notion who fathered Abigail Maragon’s baby?”
“No — do you?”
“I believe so.”
“Then you must tell me at once. Perhaps he can help me find Kassidy.”
“He cannot help you. And I would rather not say who he is at this time. But I assure you that I will help you in this.”
For some reason, she trusted him. “If you will have the baby brought down, I will leave at once.”
“I believe it best that the baby remain here for now. But I will have my housekeeper show you to the nursery so you will know the child is doing well.”
Lady Mary stood. “Does the baby want for anything?”
Raile smiled. “She enjoys the attention of all the servants. My housekeeper, Mrs. Fitzwilliams, is accused of neglecting her household duties because she spends most of the day with the child.”
He summoned Mrs. Fitzwilliams and instructed her to accompany Lady Mary to the nursery. Raile watched Lady Mary follow the housekeeper, who was delivering glowing reports on the baby’s progress.
He turned away, determined to discover what had happened to the high-spirited girl named Kassidy.
13
Like a caged animal, Kassidy paced the cell as far as her chains would allow. She no longer cringed in fear when she heard footsteps outside her cell, for the guard who had locked her in had never returned.
At last, in exhaustion, she leaned against the wall for support. She was getting weaker. She had to have nourishment or she would die.
Twice a day, some nameless, faceless person shoved water and food into the cell—if one could call the watered-down gruel they served in the dirty tin plate, food. As hungry as she was, she could not eat it, but she drank thirstily of the water.
Kassidy dropped down on the filthy mattress, no longer caring that it was bug-infested. She seemed to ache all over, and suddenly felt lightheaded. She was feverish—cold one minute and burning hot the next.
Throughout the day and into the night her fever raged. When the night was its darkest, she began to hallucinate. She could clearly visualize the mocking eyes of the duke and hear him taunting her as clearly as if he were standing in the cell with her. She cried out when she saw the pale lifeless face of her dead sister imploring her to take care of the baby.
Kassidy drew in her breath sharply, as the face of the duke floated before her again, but this time he was not mocking. His eyes were enticing her, pulling at her with a promise of pleasure. His hands touched her arm and slid up to her neck, and she shivered at his gentleness.
“You will not deceive me as you did my sister,” she cried. “I will not give in to you.”
She used all her strength to drive away the vision. Then she was left with only the harsh reality of her cold, empty cell. This was what he had done to her—cast her down in
the depths of despair. She would probably die here, and how he would laugh when he learned of her death.
With stubborn determination, Kassidy decided to overcome her delirium. If she was to survive, she had to help herself, for there was no one else.
Weakly, she dragged herself across the filthy floor to the water jug. When she lifted it to her lips and drank deeply, Kassidy was certain that she was dying because it failed to quench her burning thirst.
Raile looked down at the baby nestled against the housekeeper’s ample bosom. “She’s enjoying good health, isn’t she, Fritzy?”
The housekeeper’s brown eyes softened. “That she is, your grace. She’s a good baby and has won everyone’s heart. Poor little motherless thing. She has no name, so we call her Sweetness.”
Raile touched the small hand and was rewarded by the baby curling her tiny hand around his finger. This made him smile. “I never thought much about babies, Fritzy, but this one seems exceptionally beautiful.”
“She is indeed,” Mrs. Fitzwilliams agreed.
Ambrose appeared at the doorway and cleared his throat to get Raile’s attention.
“Begging your pardon, your grace, but there is a ‘person’ asking to see you. He refuses to give his name, but insists you will want to see him.”
Raile extracted his finger from the baby’s grasp and turned to the butler. “Doesn’t it seem of late, Ambrose, that an uncommon number of people have come here asking to see me, and refuse to give their names?”
The butler’s face remained stoic. “It would seem so, your grace.”
“I don’t suppose this man gave his reason for being here.” Raile smiled slightly. “He doesn’t have a baby with him, by any chance?”
If Ambrose was amused, it didn’t show. “No, your grace. He said only that he wanted to talk to you about a certain young lady.”
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