Dr. Trask regarded them solemnly. “He was right to do so, though I am not able to do much more than make her comfortable right now.”
“Has the time come, Doctor? Is she dying?” Lady Harrington asked, her brow furrowed with emotion.
“Lady Weston’s heart is weakening,” he explained. “There is nothing I can do to stop that, I’m afraid.”
Alfred swallowed painfully, forcing himself to ask, “Will she make it through the night?”
“There are indications that she may not,” Dr. Trask said, gravely. “Her pulse has been erratic and her breathing is labored, which is to be expected with her condition, at present. Then again, I have been wrong a handful times before during my career. Indeed, I hope I am wrong, now. All who have been blessed with knowing Lady Weston hope such a great lady will live forever.”
Lady Harrington reached out a hand to her son. “Oh, Alfred, I don’t want to lose her—not now, when I’ve finally returned home. Aunt Withypoll is so dear to me. In truth she has been like a mother to us both.”
Alfred stared down at the frail woman tucked into the huge bed before them and felt his heart swell with devotion. He couldn’t believe his beloved great-aunt might lose this battle, for she could out-maneuver almost anyone or anything. Yet he knew Dr. Trask was right. No one could keep a heart beating when it was ready to stop.
“Where is Miss Atwater?” Alfred asked. “She has become very close to Lady Weston. She should be here, as well.”
“That’s just it, my lord,” Dr. Trask said. “Crawford informed me that Miss Atwater has gone missing. She hasn’t been seen for quite some time and no one knows where she is. When I arrived an hour ago, they were searching the premises with no luck, it seems.”
Alfred frowned, as a mixture of irritation and fear flooded his veins. “Missing? Why didn’t Crawford tell me as soon as we arrived?”
“Most likely his immediate concern was for Aunt Withypoll,” his mother said.
“Damnation!” Alfred cursed. “With the current threats against her and the school, one would think Miss Atwater would take care to inform the household of her whereabouts.”
Unless she wasn’t able to inform them, he thought to himself a moment after.
Alfred and his mother regarded each other, reading each other’s minds.
“Does anyone know if Lord Harrington came to call today?” Alfred asked the doctor.
Trask shook his head. “I heard no mention of your father coming to visit. Was he expected?”
“No,” Alfred replied. He reached out to take Lady Weston’s hand in his, and though it killed him, he said, “Auntie, I cannot stay with you, though now more than ever, I want to be at your side. Miss Atwater has gone missing, and she may be in great danger. I must find her. Will you wait for me until I return?”
Lady Weston’s eyes fluttered weakly as she opened them. She focused briefly on Alfred, her voice no more than a whisper as she said, “Go and find her, Alfred. Bring her back home.”
Alfred gently patted her hand, saying, “I will, Auntie. That is a promise. Mother will stay with you until I return. Rest, now.”
Great-Aunt Withypoll gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again and drifting into unconsciousness.
“Dr. Trask, will you stay here as well, while I’m gone?” Alfred asked.
The doctor nodded. “Hopefully I will not be summoned to another case. I will look after Lady Weston and make sure she is not in any pain.”
“Thank you,” Alfred said. “Mother, you’ll be alright?”
“Yes,” Lady Harrington gave a smile, but wiped at her eyes. “I won’t leave her side, Alfred.”
Taking one last look at his beloved great-aunt, Alfred exited the room and descended the staircase in search of Crawford.
Reaching the bottom floor, he bellowed, “Crawford! Where are you, man? Crawford?”
The butler appeared at the end of the hallway and walked briskly toward his master, saying, “I am here, my lord. Dr. Trask must have told you about Miss Atwater’s disappearance.”
“He has,” Alfred replied, knowing his anger would have to wait until later. “Have you found her, yet?”
“No, my lord,” the butler answered. “Mr. Church and Miss Simms have been searching the grounds, and I have searched the house from top to bottom. She is not here. I told them that I did not see her return from her outing this afternoon. She may indeed have simply lost track of time.”
“What outing?” Alfred demanded.
“A note was delivered for Miss Atwater earlier today,” Crawford explained. “After reading it, she advised me she had to go and meet a friend, and that she wouldn’t be long.”
“She didn’t say where she was going?” Alfred asked.
“No, my lord. But she seemed to make the decision to leave rather hurriedly,” the butler explained.
“The note—did she leave it behind?”
“She did not, my lord,” Crawford answered. “I searched the hallway for it, even the front step of the house, hoping she had dropped it there. Alas, I found nothing.”
A knock sounded on the front door.
“Perhaps that is Miss Atwater, now,” the butler said, going to answer it.
But it was not Miss Awater.
Mungo charged inside with Dolly close behind. “We found somethin’ outside,” he said, waving a piece of paper in his hand.
“Read it, Lord Weston,” Dolly said. “We’re not sure what to make of it.”
Alfred read the crumpled note aloud: “‘Miss Atwater, Please attend me forthwith. I must speak to you regarding the recent attacks against the Atwater School. I have information which we must discuss. However, tell no one of our meeting. My carriage awaits outside. —The Earl of Harrington.’ Crawford, is this the note which was delivered to Miss Atwater earlier today?”
“It looks to be the same, my lord,” Crawford answered.
“But why would Lord Harrington request a secret meeting with Miss Atwater?” Dolly asked. “Why wouldn’t ’e ask for yer help in the matter, milord?”
Alfred frowned, trying to quell the dark foreboding in his heart. “That is a good question, Dolly. And one we must quickly answer,” he said. “Mungo, go and get every weapon you have which can be easily concealed and meet me here in five minutes. Crawford, go and get my pistols, if you please.”
As Mungo and Crawford departed, Dolly said, “Is Miss Atwater in trouble, milord? Surely, if yer father is with her…”
Alfred met Dolly’s eyes, saying gravely, “That is precisely why I worry for her safety, Miss Simms. It may be nothing, but the truth may be something worse than we ever thought. I pray that I am wrong.”
Dolly blinked away tears. “Oh, please go an’ find Miss Atwater, milord! Bring ’er back safe.”
“That is my intention, Dolly,” he said. “While Mungo and I are gone, I need you to help Lady Harrington in any way you can. I know you must look after the girls, but Lady Weston is quite ill. She may not last the night. Crawford is here, and he will protect the house. He knows how to shoot a pistol and swing a few punches if need be.”
“For that matter, so do I,” she asserted.
“Good to know, Dolly,” he replied. “I have the utmost confidence in you.”
Mungo and Crawford reappeared, and Alfred took the pistols from his butler. “Do not be afraid to use your own pistol in our absence, Crawford. I explained to Miss Simms that you will be on guard tonight.”
“Of course, my lord,” Crawford replied. “I shall protect the house with my last breath.”
“Do you have your weapons at the ready, Mungo?” Alfred asked.
Mungo opened his jacket and displayed several dangerous-looking knives. Custom-made sheaths were sewn into the lining, and there was even a holster for his pistol.
The ex-pirate said, “Ready, milord. Let’s go an’ fetch Miss Atwater, an’ bring ’er home.”
Chapter 25
Prudence opened her eyes slowly, fighting against the groggy sensation th
at seemed to paralyze her body. Her head ached with a dull thud, and her throat was parched with thirst.
Forcing herself to focus her eyes, she blinked repeatedly as she tried to get her bearings.
She tried to move but realized that she was bound. Her wrists were tied behind her back and she was on the floor in an awkward position, secured to the foot of a heavy four-poster bed. A gag had been tied around her mouth.
What had happened? Where was she?
Prudence scanned the room for clues as to her whereabouts, but she didn’t recognize it. The bed chamber was decorated in an opulently garish style, with deep red draperies trimmed in black fringe and accessories to match. The room was luxurious, but there was something off about it.
How had she gotten here? Her mind was muddy… She tried to control the fear that pulsed in her veins, for she knew it would not help her situation. She had to think clearly.
Then it all came back—Lord Harrington, the carriage, and the strong smelling rag he’d put over her mouth. He’d knocked her out and brought her to this place. But why would Alfred’s father do such a thing?
The door opened, and Lord Harrington entered, holding a brandy snifter in his hand.
“Ah, I see you are awake, Miss Atwater,” he said pleasantly.
She struggled and tried to say something—still hoping that this was all a misunderstanding or that Lord Harrington had temporarily lost his mind.
He sat in a wing chair. “Please don’t tire yourself with trying to speak or escape your bonds. It is futile and you will only hurt yourself. I am sorry it had to come to this, but there was no other option. I gave you several warnings which you chose to ignore. I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but I am a businessman, Miss Atwater. And I must protect the empire I have worked to build.”
Prudence stared at Lord Harrington mutely in horror.
He was the one behind the threats to her…the one who burned down her school…the one who sent his henchman after her at the National Gallery.
Alfred’s father was Mr. Cage.
Prudence kicked her feet and screamed into the gag, but it was no use.
“I told you not to bother doing that,” Lord Harrington said, “but once again, your stubborn nature shows through. It is your choice, my dear. I care not if you dislocate your arm flailing about like a heathen. Soon you will no longer be my problem.”
Prudence blinked up at him—this lord of the realm who sat there as if all of this were perfectly normal. Perhaps he was mad….
Lord Harrington smiled at her and said, “In a little while, some gentlemen will come in to look at you. Not to worry. Nothing untoward will occur. Not here, anyway. There’s going to be an auction, Miss Atwater. It would be difficult to keep you on in one of my brothels—word might get out regarding your identity, or you might find a way to escape. I certainly cannot have that. So I am selling you to the highest bidder. Whichever gentleman bids the most will take you away tonight and do with you as he pleases—preferably far away from London. I shall wash my hands of you and you will no longer be a threat to my business.”
Prudence’s heart beat thunderously in her chest.
This was a like a nightmare, only it was all too real.
How many other girls had this happened to, she wondered? And how many of them had ended up dead when the buyer was finished with them?
Her father had raised her to use her intellect to solve her problems. If only she wasn’t gagged! If only she could talk to Lord Harrington, or Mr. Cage, or whatever he called himself. Surely she could get herself out of this before it was too late. She had to find a way to stall him, somehow.
If this dastardly auction took place, Prudence might never see Alfred again—or Dolly, or Mungo, or their unborn child, or the girls, or Lady Weston. They were her family now, and all she wanted was to be with them again.
Though it killed her to think it, perhaps Alfred was right. Perhaps she’d taken too many risks in her efforts to help the streetwalkers that men like Lord Harrington employed. Yet she knew she could never have turned her back on those women, even now, when her own life was in peril.
She had to think…had to figure out a way to escape.
“Well, it has been charming spending this time with you, Miss Atwater,” Lord Harrington said, as if they were guests at a soiree. “However, I must go and prepare for my buyers. They will be arriving soon. Then you will finally be taken care of, and I shall make a tidy profit from it. Until then.”
With that Lord Harrington exited the room, leaving Prudence alone and still tied to the bedpost. If only she could loosen these bonds! But her wrists were bound very securely. She could scream for help if she could get the gag off her mouth, but it was doubtful anyone in this place would come to her aid. She tried to move the bed post but it was far too heavy. It sat like an immovable stone on the floor.
Think, Prudence, think!
The gag in her mouth seemed to be a strip of muslin… Only one option presented itself to her at the moment. Prudence began slowly chewing at the fabric tied around her mouth. While she did that, she concentrated on how she might untie the bonds at her wrists.
Alfred… I won’t let them take me away from you, her heart cried out.
I will find my way back to you, no matter what it takes. And even if you are angry at me for falling into this trap, I don’t care. I only want to see you again, to feel your arms around me once more, and your lips on mine.
As Prudence focused on the task at hand, she filled her mind and heart with Alfred—her soul-mate, her lover, her friend.
For there was something very important she had to tell him….
* * *
Alfred and Mungo hopped out of the carriage and onto the street.
“Just like before, Matthews,” he said to his driver. “Wait for us around the corner. If you see us running, get ready for a quick departure.”
“Yes, milord,” Matthews replied. “You can count on me.”
Alfred had the utmost confidence in Matthews, for the man had served with him in the Peninsula.
“Alright, Mungo,” Alfred said as they trotted toward the posh-looking house on the corner of Eddlington Street. “This is The Black Swan, another of Cage’s brothels. Prudence may be held somewhere inside. We’ll go round to the back door and you keep your pistol trained on whoever answers.”
Mungo held up a pistol and a curved knife. “Don’t worry milord, we’ll soon get ’em talkin.’”
They’d been to one brothel already, The Zephyr, but found nothing. Mungo had snatched a young man working there when he stepped outside for a smoke, dragged him into an alley and roughed him up while Alfred asked the questions. But the shaken footman told them no one matching Prudence’s description had been brought in to The Zephyr that night.
They had the names of several brothels thanks to Minnie’s information. Of course, there could be more establishments they didn’t know about, but at least it was a starting point.
The thought of Prudence out there somewhere with God-knew-what happening to her made Alfred almost mad with fury. But he had to put those feelings aside now, and focus on finding her before it was too late.
Alfred and Mungo climbed over the wrought-iron fence surrounding the property and ran across the dark gardens toward the back of the house. The windows were lit inside and the sounds of men talking and laughing echoed through the night. Light female voices trickled over top.
Approaching the back door, Mungo reached out a meaty fist and knocked upon it. In a few moments it opened and a big, burly man filled the door frame.
“McTavish?” Mungo said, lowering his pistol.
“Mungo Church?” the man said, the hint of a grin on his broad face. He looked around before stepping outside to greet them. “You old sea dog! I thought you was dead.”
“I could say the same about you, Tav,” Mungo replied, slapping the man on the back. “Will wonders never cease.”
“How long you been in London, bucko?”
McTavish asked. “Or are ye still sailin’ the old briny?”
“I’m retired from that life,” Mungo said. “I work for a lady now—Miss Atwater. She’s gone missing. That’s why we’re here. We need your help, Tav.”
“You don’t have to ask, Mungo,” he replied. “You’ve got it. What can I do?”
“This is Lord Weston,” Mungo said. “Miss Atwater is in love with him.”
Alfred shot a surprised glance at Mungo, who continued, “Even if she don’t know it, milord, she is. And ’e loves her too. Miss Atwater is a strong-willed young lady, but brave as they come. She ’elps girls like what work here, takes them off the street and gives them an education. She found me on the street, I was almost dead. She took me in and nursed me, and taught me to read.”
“You can read?” McTavish asked, amazed.
“Yeah, and do numbers and everything,” Mungo explained. “But Miss Atwater’s generosity has got ’er into hot water. She’s made some powerful enemies, and we think one of ’em snatched ’er.”
“We think the brothel owner, Mr. Cage, has abducted her,” Alfred said. “We know this is one of his establishments. Have there been any new girls brought in tonight?”
McTavish led them a few steps away from the house, saying, “This is one of Mr. Cage’s houses. And I could lose my job for tellin’ ye so—or worse. But old Mungo saved me life once, so I owe him. There hasn’t been any new girls brought here tonight, but I heard tell of somethin’ big going on at one of the other houses, one called, The Sapphire. It’s not as well-known as the other houses—very exclusive—on Frederick Place. There’s to be an auction…a new girl was brought in. I don’t know much more than that.”
“Was there a description of this girl?” Alfred asked.
McTavish shook his head. “No. But one of the other guards was sent over there for crowd control, in case things get out of ’and. That’s all I know.”
Alfred exchanged a look with Mungo. “Let’s go. We haven’t a moment to lose.”
Taming The Bride (Brides of Mayfair 2) Page 20