Frankly, Catherine couldn't understand Lady Wykham's distress, but she offered comfort regardless. “ Perhaps he stopped by his club,” she suggested helpfully.
“Impossible,” Lady Wykham stated emphatically. “The matter that he wished to discuss with you was far too important to be put off for a game of dice.” Flustered, she laid the back of her hand against her cheek. “Dear me, I'm saying far too much, but I just don't understand where John could be.”
As the front knocker sounded again, Catherine smiled reassuringly at John's mother. “That's probably him now.” Stepping back out into the foyer, Catherine steadied her nerves, wondering what “important matter” John wished to discuss with her. Please God, let him have realized he loves me, she thought, sending the quick prayer winging upward.
But instead of John, a complete stranger stepped into the house. Holding his hat respectfully in his hands, he bobbed his gray-haired head at her as their butler introduced him.
“Mr. David Baker from Bow Street, milady.”
“Do come in, Mr. Baker,” Catherine offered as he handed his hat and coat to the butler. “I assume you've come in Mr. Lewis’ stead.”
“On his behalf, not in his stead,” he clarified.
For the second time in as many minutes, she was confused again. “I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Baker.”
“You had a meeting with Mr. Lewis this morning.” As Mr. Baker stated it as fact, Catherine didn't feel the need to confirm his statement. “When you sent around the urgent note for Mr. Lewis, we immediately tried to contact him, but none of my men have seen Mr. Lewis since early this evening.”
“Is that unusual?” she inquired hesitantly.
“Most unusual, especially for a fine investigator like Mr. Lewis.” Catherine nodded in understanding, allowing Mr. Davis to continue uninterrupted. “So, we began to retrace Mr. Lewis’ steps today—which is how I know about your meeting with him—and we uncovered some disturbing news.” Mr. Davis’ expression grew foreboding. “A street urchin witnessed an incident near Lord Wykham's stables and, as soon as he heard we were looking for information, he came forward. He saw Mr. Lewis knocked unconscious by three men.”
Catherine's hands flew to her cheeks. “Poor Mr. Lewis. Is he all right?”
“We don't know, my lady,” Mr. Davis explained. “These men made off with Mr. Lewis.” He paused, before adding, “But that's not all. Apparently, while these three men were abducting Mr. Lewis, they were interrupted by Lord Wykham, who tried to help Mr. Lewis, but he was assaulted and abducted as well.”
“John?” Catherine fought back the panic that threatened to consume her. “They took John?”
At Mr. Davis’ nod, Catherine's knees began to wobble, her head grew light, and the room seemed to spin. She was going to faint, she thought hysterically, unable to stop the terror clawing through her. She could faint, but that wasn't going to help John.
Catherine didn't know where that voice of reason had come from, but she clung to it, drawing strength from the knowledge that John needed her now. He'd tried to protect her so many times in the past, but, as it turned out, he was the one who needed protecting.
Swallowing her panic, Catherine drew in a shaky breath and shored up her nerves. “Please come with me into the parlor, Mr. Davis, while I inform my family and Lord Wykham's mother of this horrible incident.” She embraced the dark anger filling her. “Then we can discuss how to find Lord Wykham and Mr. Lewis and bring them home.”
20
Checking the reputable clubs had been an utter waste of time, Richard decided with a disgusted shake of his head. He should have known he'd find Morrow in a disreputable gaming hell.
“A gentleman who can't afford to lose should never join a game,” Richard drawled lazily, noting the small pile of markers in front of Morrow.
“Just having a run of bad luck,” Morrow replied cheerfully. If the smell emanating from Morrow was any indication, the man was definitely foxed. “Care to join the game?”
“I'll pass.” Snatching Morrow's cards from his hand, Richard set them on the table, folding for him.
“What'd you do that for?” demanded Morrow.
Richard yanked Morrow from the chair, snagged his few remaining markers, and herded the man outside.
“Why'd you go and spoil all my fun, Vernon? There was a time when you would have been right beside me,” Morrow asked.
The truth of that statement made Richard wince. “As I've said before, Morrow, times change.” He watched his old companion carefully. “But not for you apparently. I heard you've been up to your old tricks.”
Panic flickered in Morrow's eyes before he glanced away. “Have you come to preach to me again, Richard?” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head. “You've become quite the bore lately.”
But, like a blood hound chasing the scent of the fox, Richard knew Morrow was hiding something. “Let's not talk about me, then, old friend,” he murmured in a smooth tone, to invite confidences. “Let's discuss you, for you're far more interesting these days, aren't you?”
“That's a wager I'd bet a pound note on,” he remarked with a drunken laugh. “And I'll soon have plenty of pounds to wager.”
Perfect. Luckily for him, Morrow was so stinking drunk he couldn't even tell he was being manipulated. Leading Morrow into loosening his tongue even more, Richard slapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations are in order then, my friend, are they not? It's not every day a man recoups his fortune.”
“No, indeed not.” Morrow's chest puffed out. “Only the most clever of us can manage that one.” He frowned slightly, narrowing his gaze upon Richard. “How did you get yours back again?”
“Through hard work,” Richard offered.
Morrow found that extremely amusing. “Christ, you sound like a bleeding tradesman,” he remarked when he'd finished laughing. “If I added up all the bloody money I spent on gaming and my other entertainment, it would amount to a damn fortune.” Crooking his finger, Morrow leaned closer and whispered, “I'm far smarter than you, 'cause I've discovered a way to have my cake and eat it, too.”
Moving in for the kill, Richard asked, “How's that?”
“By using my head and encouraging . . . free trade.” He smiled, pleased at his phrasing. “That's it indeed. I get something someone else wants and trade for something I want—their money.”
With every word that passed through Morrow's mouth, Richard became more convinced that Elizabeth and Catherine had been right all along. “It sounds as if you've discovered a far better way to recover your fortune, Morrow.” He slung a companionable arm across Morrow's shoulders. “Care to share your knowledge with an old friend?”
In an instant, Richard knew he'd gone too far. With a jerk, Morrow pulled away, turning to glare suspiciously at Richard. “So that's your game, is it, old chum?” he murmured darkly. “You've had nothing to do with me for years, then all of a sudden you're sniffing around me, trying to get a piece of my action.” Shaking his head, Morrow began to stumble backward. “Well, I'm too clever to be fooled by your trickery.”
Richard tried to regain some of the ground he'd lost with that one misstep. “It's not like that, Morrow,” he insisted, adding a note of sincerity to his voice. “We never stopped being friends. Didn't I just give you some blunt?”
Again, Richard sensed he'd made another mistake. “You might have tossed a paltry sum at me, true, but you also told me to never speak to you again,” Morrow snarled bitterly. “You thought you were too good for the likes of me . . . so don't be thinking that just because I'm going to get some of my own that you can come around looking for my help.” He spat at Richard's feet. “We'll just see who's better than whom.”
As Morrow stumbled off, Richard waited until he'd rounded the corner of the alley before he began to follow. With a bit of luck, the drunken fool would be motivated to check on his . . . investment, and would lead Richard straight to Isaac. Making certain he stayed far enough behind, Richard trailed Morrow throug
h the dark streets into the very bowels of London.
Finally, Morrow paused in front of a dilapidated building, looking right, then left, before slinking inside. Blood pumping through his veins, Richard neared the building, heading around the outside to see if there was another way in. At the rear, Richard found what used to be a staircase leading to a second-floor landing, but it had long since broken, leaving only a portion of the structure behind.
With all the lower windows boarded up, Richard didn't think he'd find another way into the building when he happened to notice the house right next door. At the rear of that structure, there was a staircase as well, but this one appeared intact and led to an upper balcony . . . that was mere feet from the upper landing on Morrow's building.
Not waiting another moment, Richard hurried next door and carefully made his way up the stairs. He easily jumped to the upper landing of Morrow's building. Pressing against the outer wall, he peered into the dingy window. Through the dirt, he thought he saw someone sitting along the opposite wall. Excitement pulsed through him as he used his shirt sleeve to wipe the window clean.
The excitement chilled in his very bones when he saw just who was sitting against the far wall, trussed up like a hog on the way to slaughter. John. And off to his right lay a bound Isaac, while a third man, tied up as well, lay to John's left.
Swearing under his breath, Richard sank back down against the wall. How the hell had John gotten in there? Not that it mattered. No, all that he needed to know now was how was he going to rescue the three men without being detected. Turning, Richard looked through the window again, this time trying to see John's captors. While he didn't see them, he heard two other male voices besides Morrow's distinctively slurred one.
The odds against Richard being able to sneak undetected into the room, free all three of them, help them outside and down the stairs, then get them away from the building were horribly slim. So, as much as he wanted to charge in and save his brother, Richard forced himself to think logically. The only way to save his brother was to leave him here and go for help.
Resolve tightened his gut as Richard peered through the window again, pressing two fingers against the glass as if to touch John, to tell him that help was on the way. Then, he backed away, making his way down from the building . . . and leaving his brother behind.
It was one of the hardest things Richard had ever done, and he prayed it wasn't the biggest mistake he'd ever make.
Sitting forward, Elizabeth gazed at Mr. Baker. “What if Mr. Lewis was getting close to finding Isaac? Too close? Perhaps they took Mr. Lewis to keep him from leading Lord Wykham and the authorities to Isaac.”
Mr. Baker rubbed his chin. “There is always that possibility, because we believe Mr. Lewis was the intended victim. Unfortunately for the marquess, he simply got in the way.”
“Then why take him?” Catherine asked, obviously distraught, but still controlled. “Why not simply knock him out and leave him?”
“Perhaps John saw their faces more closely this time,” suggested Lady Wykham. “From what you've told me, the last time you encountered these horrid miscreants it was dark and foggy. You yourself said that you hadn't gotten a good look at their faces.”
“That has solid reasoning,” Mr. Baker agreed.
“Everything you've suggested does make sense to me,” her father said, before shaking his head. “But what I don't understand is why it took the kidnappers so long to send a ransom note.”
“Who can say?” replied Mr. Baker, lifting his shoulders. “Perhaps they wanted to give the Burnbaums a taste of life without their son, making them so eager to get him back that they would pay any amount.”
Papa's hand shook as he rubbed it down his face. “It wouldn't take me a few days to be willing to hand over my fortune to get back one of my daughters.”
Elizabeth knew by the inflection in her father's voice that he was thinking of losing one of them . . . just as he'd lost Mama. “Luckily, you won't need to worry about that, Papa,” she assured him. “Both Catherine and I are right here, safe and sound.”
Blinking rapidly, her father nodded.
Everyone jumped at the sound of the front door banging against the wall. “Elizabeth!”
Richard's bellow shook the house. “In here,” she called out, hurrying to reach him. “What is it? What's wrong?”
Skidding to a stop inside the parlor, Richard swept his gaze over the people in the room, before coming to rest on her. “It's John,” he panted, completely out of breath. “They've got John.”
“I know,” Elizabeth murmured, reaching out to comfort Richard.
But he shook her off. “You don't understand. I know where he is.”
Everyone in the room erupted at that pronouncement, until Mr. Baker shouted for quiet and explained to Richard that he was Mr. Lewis's colleague. “John is being held in a building near the river,” he explained as quickly as possible. “Isaac Burnbaum and a third man I didn't recognize are there as well. All of them are tied and appear groggy or unconscious.” Pausing only to take a breath, he continued. “While I couldn't see the captors, I did hear three distinct voices coming from an area off the second floor room where my brother is being held.”
“Where is the exact location of the building?” After Richard told Mr. Baker, he headed from the room, pausing only to give directions. “I want all of you to wait here. I'm going to collect my men and we'll soon have the marquess home where he belongs, as well as Mr. Burnbaum and Mr. Lewis.”
Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Baker rushed from the house.
“I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll be damned to Hell and back before I sit here and wait while my brother is held captive.”
“I'm coming with you,” Elizabeth said immediately, and an instant later Catherine, Papa, and Lady Wykham all chimed in as well.
Nodding brusquely, Richard began to issue orders. “I've come up with a plan, so I want all of you to do exactly as I tell you. I don't think we'll need to use it, now that the runners are going to be there, but it's best to be prepared.”
As Elizabeth, Catherine, and Lord Shipham raced off to retrieve the items Richard requested, his mother came up to him and cupped his face. “You sounded just like John now, barking out those commands.”
“I'll get him back for you, Mother,” Richard promised, pressing her hand against his cheek.
She gave him a teary-eyed smile. “I don't doubt it for a moment.” Sniffling, she pulled away from him, straightened her back, and looked him in the eye. “Now, tell me what I can do so I don't feel like such a useless old woman.”
They'd had a devil of a time convincing the hackney driver to let them off in such a dangerous section of town, but the flash of Richard's money had eased the man's worry. Sneaking down alleyways, they'd finally come to the building where John was being held. Weak light shone from the second-story window like a beacon calling them forth to rescue John, Isaac, and Mr. Lewis.
Still, they sat, quiet and watchful, awaiting the arrival of the runners. “Must we wait?” Catherine asked for the third time.
“It is the sensible thing to do.”
Looking at Richard's taut back, Elizabeth realized that, while he might be behaving very responsibly, all he really wanted to do was burst into that building and rescue his brother. It was exactly how she would feel if it were Catherine in that horrid place. Odd, how she was sitting here in this dingy alley, terrified for the welfare of three people, cold and frightened, yet she felt completely in tune with Richard.
In this horrible situation, where their welfare was in jeopardy, life was stripped of everything but its essence. And at the core of her heart lay Richard.
Wishing she could tell him, Elizabeth settled for placing her hand upon his back. He started beneath her hand when a loud crash came from the second-floor room, followed by shouts of anger.
“I don't think we can wait any longer,” Richard said, turning to look at them. “Does everyone remember what they're suppose
d to do?”
At their nods, Richard met Elizabeth's eyes for one heart-stopping moment before gesturing to her father and heading up the stairs. Gathering up her materials, Elizabeth hurried to the rear of the building and began mixing her special concoction, while Catherine and Lady Wykham went round to the front of the building to await the arrival of the runners.
Tilting her head back, she waited until Richard and her father were in position on the second-floor landing; then, at Richard's signal, she stepped back and tossed the acid into the bowl. The explosion shook the foundation of the house as Richard, with his pistol drawn, kicked out the window and disappeared inside the building, followed by her father.
Following Richard's instructions, Elizabeth slid back into the shadows behind the second building to await his next signal.
Elizabeth's explosion had worked like a charm, alarming John's captors, making it easy for Richard and Lord Shipham to get into the room undetected. The two kidnappers turned themselves over to Richard and Lord Shipham without a fight. “Where's Morrow?” demanded Richard as he tied up the two men.
“Gone,” said the shorter man, a veritable font of information.
As soon as the two captors were secured, Richard and Lord Shipham began to untie John and Mr. Lewis. He'd only begun to undo the ropes binding John when he heard something behind him. Rolling to the side, he barely managed to escape being knocked unconscious by none other than his old friend, Morrow. Elizabeth's father lay at Morrow's feet in an unconscious heap.
“I knew you couldn't resist sticking your nose into my business,” sneered Morrow as he pointed a pistol at Richard. “You're a fool, Vernon.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Richard saw John working his hands out of the ropes. But he knew John was still groggy, so he wasn't about to rely upon him for help. “I used to be a fool,” Richard agreed without hesitation. “But not any more.”
Morrow stepped over Lord Shipham, closing the distance between them. “From where I'm standing, I'd say that's a lie.”
Wedding of the Year Page 23