“There were a lot of foreigners at the duchess’s ball,” Nate remarked.
“The prince regent enjoys entertaining our allies and takes personal credit for defeating Napoleon,” Clarence said, only years of training preventing him from showing the contempt he felt for the man’s arrogance.
“I gather he has uniforms made, prances about in them, and re-enacts his part at Waterloo to his long-suffering guests,” Nate said.
Winchester nodded. “Take it from one who knows. He does. He has actually convinced himself he was there and takes all the credit for the victory.”
“Remarkable,” Vince said, shaking his head.
“Did anyone stand out this evening, Romsey?” Winchester asked. “Anyone with special reason to be annoyed with you?”
Clarence shrugged. “I know things about a lot of the people in attendance tonight, most of it not to their credit. But it’s not within England’s interests to reveal that information, and those men are astute enough to realise it.” Clarence scrubbed a hand down his face. “Or put another way, they are not desperate enough to kidnap a young lady to buy my silence. Tension still runs high throughout Europe, but the prince actually helps by inviting the leading lights from Europe to feel at home here in England.”
“Which is not his intention,” Winchester said, grimacing.
“Even if they did feel desperate enough to resort to kidnapping, how would they know to target Anna?” Nate asked. “To the best of my knowledge, you have not spent time in her company in public before tonight.”
“Quite. Whoever took Anna went to considerable trouble to get into the duchess’s garden,” Winchester said. “So their plans had to be made in advance. And they then laid in wait when the temperatures were freezing, on the off chance Anna might appear.” He looked as dubious as Clarence felt. “You really have upset someone, Romsey.”
“Evidently.”
The brothers shared a speaking look that excluded Clarence. “It doesn’t seem plausible,” Vince said for them all. “Unless the rogues planned to sneak into the house, dressed…I don’t know, in livery perhaps, passing themselves off as servants, or even as guests. It was so crowded, no one would have noticed. Once inside, they planned to capture someone that way. But then they saw Anna and made off with her.”
“It’s possible,” Winchester agreed, absently fondling the ears of one of his dogs, “but unlikely.”
“I concur,” Clarence said.
“The temperature is a very good reason why you and Anna shouldn’t have been out there in the first place,” Nate said, scowling.
“I did point that out to Lady Annalise, but she laughed off my concerns.” Clarence inclined his head. “Your sister was anxious to avoid Roker.”
“Ah.” Winchester nodded. “Roker is an idiot.”
Clarence offered a wry smile. “You sister agrees with that assessment and, apparently, likes snow.”
The brothers shared a brittle smile. “That is certainly true.”
“But still, taking her outside in sub-zero temperatures?” Vince shook his head.
“Have you ever tried to stop Anna when she has her heart set on a particular course?” Winchester asked his brothers.
“Hmm, you have a point.” The tension in Vince’s shoulders eased, and Clarence knew he had been vindicated, at least to some degree, by Lady Annalise’s brothers. That was all very well, but forgiving himself would not be so easily achieved.
“Wherever she is,” Nate said, pacing the room like a caged tiger, “I hope she has some light. Our sister is afraid of the dark.”
“She accidently locked herself in a dark cupboard on the nursery floor at the Park when she was little,” Winchester explained. “It was some time before she was found, and she never got over the experience.”
“Not that she would admit it,” Vince added, a fond smile playing briefly about his lips before he returned to his scowling. “But it’s nonetheless true.”
“Dear God.” Clarence ran a hand through his hair. “We have to find her.”
“She will be so very cold,” Nate said. “I can’t bear to think of it.”
“No she…damnation, that’s it!” Clarence thumped his thigh with his clenched fist. “I’m a numbskull. I should have made the connection much sooner.”
“What?” asked three Sheridans in unison.
“She was wearing Frankie’s shawl.” Clarence shared a glance between the brothers. “It wasn’t Anna who was the target, but Frankie.”
Chapter Six
Hearing the man casually order his underlings to get rid of her caused Anna’s survival instincts to kick in. Her inertia was replaced by the urgent need for action. She was damned if she would meekly sit here waiting for her own execution. She briefly considered bashing on the door and offering the men a handsome reward if they returned her to Berkeley Square. In the end, she decided against it, since she couldn’t be sure they would agree.
She waited until she heard the newcomer’s boots ringing on the stairs as he clattered down them. She waited a little longer, listening to the other two muttering curses, expecting them to grab her at any moment. If they had been given permission to kill her, there was no saying what they might do to her before that. Shuddering as she recalled the rancid breath of the first man who had grabbed her, the feel of his hands on her leg as he untied her ankles, she decided she could not afford to wait any longer. No ransom demand would be sent. No one would come to her rescue.
She was on her own.
Anna walked across to the window, convinced with the way her luck was running that it would not open. It was stiff but, to her considerable gratification, she was able to force it open. The freezing outside air blasted her face, but she welcomed the feel of freedom, so close and yet tantalisingly out of reach. The branches were close enough for her to be able to clamber from the window and grab the nearest one, except she would fall at the first hurdle if she attempted to do so with just her flimsy lace evening gloves covering her hands. She picked up the discarded parts of the sack and bound them awkwardly around her palms, leaving her fingers free. Sighing, she ripped her skirts so she could tie them around her legs, using a ribbon from her petticoats to fasten the blanket around her shoulders.
As ready as she would ever be, Anna took a deep breath and pulled herself through the window onto the ledge. It was covered with ice and, even with the rough sacking to protect her feet, she almost slid to her doom. Gasping, she grabbed the window frame and just managed to save herself. Heart pumping, she took a moment to compose herself and thought about her predicament. The nearest branch was further away than it had appeared from inside. So too was the ground. Unaware how much more time was available to her, Anna could not afford to linger. Her courage would fail her, or she would freeze to death, if she didn’t move right away. She lurched forward, reaching for the branch with both hands, stupidly closing her eyes at the vital moment. She gasped as her frozen fingers, stiff and unwilling to bend, made awkward contact with the frosty branch. It felt as though they had been burned, although how it was possible to burn and freeze at the same time, Anna could not have said.
One hand slipped and she found herself clinging awkwardly with the other, the fingers already so cold she didn’t think she could hold on. She glanced down—a long way down to the ground below her—as the muscles in her arms screamed for mercy. If she let go she would break her legs at the very least, and that she was fiercely determined not to do. Quite apart from anything else, she refused to do her captors’ work for them.
It was the thought of Lord Romsey’s eyes, alight with laughter, and of his lopsided smile when she said something that amused him that gave her courage to struggle on. She swung her legs violently, making her body work like a metronome as she continued to cling one-handed to the branch that now flexed alarming beneath her weight. At the third attempt, she collided with considerable force against the frosty trunk of the tree, hitting her head on the branch above her, and sending snow cascading into he
r hair and knocking the air from her lungs. She ignored the cold ice that trickled down her neck and hugged the trunk with both arms, struggling to regain her breath. She felt mildly euphoric to have got that far. Now all she had to do was climb down the branches until she reached solid ground.
Gulping, Anna lost no time in doing precisely that. She was awkward, chilled to the bone, and her feet slipped on every branch. Her shins were bashed and bruised, as were her hands, but she ignored the discomfort and concentrated on reaching the ground. Anything was better than being contained in that small room with no light, no heat, and no prospect of being released. If those brutes wanted to kill her, they would have to catch her first.
Her fingers were so cold that by the time she was six feet from the ground, she simply couldn’t hold on anymore. She slithered, almost gracefully, to the ground, rolling into a ball to break her fall. She cried out when she jolted her shoulder and her cheek fell against a drift of icy snow. Winded, she slowly sat up and took stock of her situation. All of her limbs still appeared to be in working order. Her shoulder hurt and pain ricocheted through her when she tried to move it. But apart from that, she did appear to be in one piece.
Anna scrabbled to her feet, aware that every second could be vital. Dampness seeped into her feet, which was when she realised she had gone from bad to worse. Unless she could find shelter quickly, she would freeze to death. It had to be the coldest night in living memory, and she didn’t even have any shoes. She pulled the threadbare blanket over her head and held it close around her body. Then she walked. She needed to head west, away from the river, towards the better part of town. The only difficulty was, she was unsure in which direction west actually was.
Leaving the river behind her, she moved forward with weary determination, trusting her instincts to guide her. Daylight was just beginning to break, but the sky was no longer clear, a fresh bank of thick cloud having rolled in. More snow was on the way. The sun struggled to break through on the horizon. The sun rose in the east, did it not, which implied she was going the right way. Buoyed by this small achievement, she walked in the lea of the tall warehouses, taking advantage of the protection from the biting wind offered by the buildings. Even so, her feet were already frozen, the rest of her barely less so. She felt light-headed, nauseous, and utterly exhausted. She thought of home, of roaring fires, hot toast, Lord Romsey’s compelling eyes, and forced herself to keep moving.
Anna noticed shadows moving in doorways and realised, with a start, they were people, actually trying to sleep in these atrocious conditions. Dear God, and she thought things were bad for her. She wanted to talk to them, ask where she was and if they could help her. But she did not dare. They would never believe she was in a position to help them in return. She had worn a delicate seed pearl necklace to the ball. Astonishingly she still had it on and that alone would be enough to get her killed in this district.
And so she keep moving, eyes downcast, startled by every unfamiliar sound, noise, and smell. Ignoring them as best she could, she hoped against hope she would be mistaken for a person who lived on the streets rather than one worth accosting. A claw-like hand reached out to grab her at one point. She shrieked and pulled herself free. Cackling laughter echoed in her wake as she rushed awkwardly down the street, distancing herself from her accoster.
It felt as though she had been walking forever, although it could not have been above ten minutes. Even so, she was terrified, frozen to the marrow, and completely exhausted. Her shoulder, where she had fallen on it, hurt every time she made an abrupt move, bringing tears to her eyes. Unless she could find shelter within the next few minutes, somewhere to wait out the fresh snow she could smell in the air, she would simply lay down where she fell. The misery of being so cold had drained all the determination out of her. Even images of Lord Romsey’s handsome features, relaxed as he showed her a rare glimpse of the man he could be when he was not behaving like the consummate diplomat he was, failed to revive her. She was in a sorry way indeed.
The air was so cold it hurt her lungs to breathe it. She saw smoke winding up from a nearby chimney and fought the urge to head in that direction and huddle against the stack. Instead, she stared ahead, at first thinking she was hallucinating when she heard gruff voices and then a horse’s whinny. A little energy returned to her body as she wiped fresh flakes of snow from her eyes, peering intently into the distance. Could she have happened upon an inn? She quelled the burst of elation that erupted within her breast, having learned over the past few hours to exercise caution. But the closer she got, the more sure she became. Yes, she could smell horses! The gods were finally smiling upon her. She could demand entry to the inn, and have them send someone to Berkeley Square to summon Zach. She would be safe!
Hope faded when saw two men charge up to the inn from the opposite direction and rouse the night porter. It was her captors. If they had approached from the same street as her, they would have caught her. Encouraged by her narrow escape, Anna concealed herself behind some old ale casks stacked at the side of the inn. She couldn’t see the men’s faces, but she would recognise those voices anywhere. It was definitely them.
“What’s with all the noise?” the night porter demanded gruffly.
“My sister’s gone missing,” she heard one of the men reply. “Maid to a fine lady, so she is, but something ain’t quite right in her head when there’s a full moon. She pinched her mistress’s old ball gown and went out in the snow dressed in it, a blanket over her shoulders. Daft as a doorpost, so she is, but I’m that fond of her. Don’t like to think of her wandering the streets in this weather.”
“Dicked in the nob, you say.” The porter shook his head. “Ain’t no one like that been around here.”
“Well, if you see her.” Anna heard coin changing hands. “Send word to…”
Damnation, they moved away and Anna couldn’t hear anything more. But the exchange made up her mind for her. She’d been missed already and couldn’t risk asking the landlord for help. He would know she was a lady soon enough, just from her voice. That fact alone was enough to work against her in this part of town, given the level of resentment harboured towards her class, and she could finish up in more trouble.
She shivered in her hiding place, waiting for her captors to take themselves off and for things to settle down again. When she considered it was safe, Anna moved forward, paused at the entrance to the mews and actually smiled at the sight that greeted her. A horse had just been brought out from a stable, presumably because its owner wished to make an early start. It was tied to a post, wearing just a halter. The groom had left it there and taken himself off. She expected him to return at any moment with the horse’s saddle, but he did not.
Aware she would never get a better opportunity, Anna didn’t hesitate. She slid as stealthily as a wraith into the yard, looking to left and right as best she could through the rapidly falling snow. She heard voices coming from nearby; the grooms talking to one another, complaining about the cold. Before they remembered they had duties to attend to, Anna ran up to the horse, a solid, hopefully dependable, cob. She patted its neck, unfastened the halter rope and led it away, the sound of its hooves muffled by the straw put down to cover the snow and the fresh snow covering that straw.
“Come along, sweetheart,” she said. “Do this for me and your future is assured. All the oats you can eat for the rest of your days, and lots and lots of lovely fresh grass. The very best of everything. I promise you.”
The horse rubbed its muzzle against her aching shoulder, causing Anna to wince, but went along happily enough, probably glad to be on the move. Thanks to her brother Amos, who had indulged her when she insisted upon copying the boys and riding bareback as a child, not having a saddle wouldn’t be a problem. But getting on the horse’s back however would be. It was too tall for her to vault from the ground, even if she did not have an injured shoulder, but there was an upturned ale cask near the back of the inn. Just what she needed. She stood on it, glad to have had the
foresight to tie her gown around her legs, and slid onto the cob’s broad back.
Slapping the halter rope against its neck, she dug her frozen heels into warm flanks and encouraged the mare forward. She went willingly, and Anna actually smiled, triumph sweeping through her as she turned the most beautiful horse in the world in a westerly direction. No voices came after her from the mews, demanding to know what she thought she was doing, so the horse could not have been missed yet. She gave up a prayer of thanks for lazy grooms.
At last, something had worked in her favour, even if she had turned into a horse thief in the process. Zach would fix that situation just as soon as she got home. All she had to do now was find home. It was still not full light, so early risers couldn’t see her clearly through the falling snow. Just was well. She must make a very odd sight.
Feelings of euphoria turned to anxiety when Anna realised just what a bad state she was in physically. Every jolt shot through her injured shoulder like a burning poker, making her feel dizzy enough to faint. Several times, she almost slipped down the mare’s flank and fell to the ground. Somehow, she found the strength to pull herself back up again each time. Anna wished she could trot and get away faster, but her shoulder wouldn’t stand the jolting, even if it wasn’t too slippery underfoot to try it. Worse, the horse was leaving tracks in the snow since the roads were still quiet, no other traffic abroad. Anyone following her would have an easy job of it.
“Let’s see if we can confuse them,” Anna said aloud to the cob, feeling a little better when she heard the sound of her own voice, albeit wobbling with cold.
Confusing them ought to be easily achieved, given she still had no clear idea where she was herself. She turned randomly, tugging on the halter rope with her right hand to avoid further pain to her other shoulder and using pressure from her legs to steer the cob. Fortunately, the animal responded, and they continued to head in what Anna hoped was the right direction. She peered through the snow at buildings that still appeared little more than slums, unsurprised when she recognised nothing.
Ducal Encounters 02 - With the Duke's Approval Page 6