That was a surprising sentiment. Damon nodded. “Get ready quickly. I cannot delay.” As his mother hurried out of the room, off to keep another servant from getting any more sleep, her words lingered She needs me. No doubt the truth was that his mother needed Verbena right now. He turned to his father. “May I take some of your footmen? I think two or three will be enough. Too many descending on Cheapside this hour of the night will spook Barnes and give him time to slip away.”
“Take whoever you wish. Just bring back my grandson.”
*
The parlor was crowded. None of the adults could sleep, but they did not want to talk either so while the chairs were full, the room was silent. Little Alice had stood by Mrs. Smythe like a child to her mother, running out for more snow whenever needed until Verbena feared the girl would collapse, so she currently slept curled up on one of the soft wing chairs. Annabelle and Lizabeth dozed together on the settee. Julius and Matthew, after standing by the wall on guard, had finally dropped down on some straight-backed chairs in matching slumped positions, arms draped over their legs as they stared at the floor.
Samuels had taken the door as his post. “I’ll keep watch for the master, Mrs. Thern. You and the children rest.”
As if that was possible.
Verbena had forced herself to sit after her worried pacing had begun to alarm the others, and they were worried enough. Sitting had been the hardest thing she had ever done.
The boys suddenly rose as one.
She heard a sound now, too, the closing of the front door. Verbena leapt to her feet, picked up her skirts and ran. The boys reached the parlor door first and nearly clipped her jerking it open. They all but fell into the foyer.
She saw only Damon. “Did you find him?”
By the grim lines around his mouth, his face gave the answer before he spoke. “No.” He stepped aside.
Mrs. Thern stood behind him. On her face was the same terror Verbena felt. The last suspicious doubts vanished. She took the first uncertain step, Mrs. Thern moved forward as well, until step by step they gained speed and ran into each other’s arms. A cry from the depths burst out of the other woman. Verbena felt it in herself, a rising wave of anguish, building and building. She had the children to think of and had to hold her own screams in.
But it was a relief to finally hear it.
“What did you find out? Anything?”
Damon handed her a scrap of paper. Verbena took it with one hand, while the other still supported Mrs. Thern. She recognized the writing before she even saw the words. “My father? My own father?”
“Father?” Julius had overheard, not that she had made any attempt to speak quietly. It was too much of a shock.
“Father took Roderick?” Red rushed up Matthew’s face, and he turned and slammed his fist against the wall. “I hate him! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”
Verbena could not scold him. How could Damon stand to look at any of them now?
Julius took the paper from her hands. “He’s in Cheapside.” He looked over at Damon. “That’s not so far. We can go tonight and get Roderick back!”
“Not so fast.” Damon’s voice was calm. What would they have done without his calmness? How could he manage to think with all this fear churning around him? Only the grim line of his mouth gave away his feelings now. “I talked it over with my father. Barnes would hardly lead us directly to him. But I do not think he would dare travel far with an infant. I believe he is near there, close enough I trust we can find him tonight.”
“One thousand pounds?” Verbena had just spent that much on her new wardrobe. Roderick was worth no more than a single shopping trip? She did not know what to feel, insult that Roderick’s life was worth so little, fury at her father, humiliation that she had brought such a man into Damon’s life.
And fear. Utter, overwhelming fear.
*
Thomas shoved a corner of the rag of sugar-water into the baby’s mouth again, and gritted his teeth against the endless wailing. Nothing he had tried had satisfied the babe. Not a stick of dried bread, not his finger, and now not even the sugar water the innkeeper’s wife had brought up, along with her complaints that if he could not keep the baby quiet, he would have to find another place to stay. They had other guests who paid for a night of sleep, she had told him, stressing the last word.
He stood and paced the room, jouncing the baby in the crook of his arm. He remembered doing that with his own children, all of whom were sleeping the night away in Thern’s house.
Anger simmered again. His children had left his house, his own house, the one his hard work had kept for them, the house that had been handed down for generations, all for fancy curtains and a raft of servants.
What did the rich know about work?
Edeline’s babe belched up a belly full of air, and for a breath the room was quiet.
*
Shops lined the street, shirt makers, tailors, jewelers, their wares proudly displayed in the windows, but they were closed now for the night. Few lights shone in the windows of the residences above the shops. Small wonder, considering the time. Still, men of all classes strolled along the streets, young bucks looking for a thrill, others shabbily dressed, looking like they had no permanent home, little boys playing too obviously, pushing each other into the passersby, on the lookout for an easy mark. Even as he watched, Damon saw one group scatter. Someone would discover their money purse missing in a minute, but the light-fingered children would be long gone.
He was glad the doors of the carriage were locked, because in the darkness of the mews he saw deeper shadows. Footpads, waiting for someone careless enough to cross their paths. Damon slid his hand into his greatcoat and felt the small revolver in the pocket. In addition, his cane had an interesting surprise in the tip. All around the tightly packed carriage, the footmen felt for their own weapons. Damon had taken just two of his father’s most imposing men, and he was glad to have them.
The coachman was armed, too. Riding outside, it would be folly not to be.
The Cock and Bull came into view at the end of a street cluttered with inns. The King’s Staff, the Lady Fair – which Damon suspected had ladies but not so fair – the Bull’s Horn, the Ram’s Ear.
“Just as I suspected,” he said in low tones to the footman beside him, and pointed to the line of inns. “It will take us all night to search, if he’s even here.”
Reggie the footman returned, equally quietly, “How many people would miss an old man with a babe? People here watch, and they notice. And for a coin, they talk.”
Reggie would probably know. “I don’t want Roderick to endure another minute of suffering, but a crying baby will suit our purposes right now.” Damon tapped on the box. The coachman dutifully pulled the carriage up. The horses tossed their heads as they obeyed. The metal bridle rings jingled, but the soft sound blended into the noise of the nighttime street.
Damon looked around, taking the measure of the street before they stepped out into it. If the roles were reversed, only three of the inns would suit his purposes, the ones with the dogs waiting to bark and seemingly little activity. Just the place for strangers to catch the attention of someone watching from an upper room.
He had the same itchy feeling he had had during the war watching for snipers and scouts. Back then, when the whole company relied on him to get them through safely, his instincts had been good. Those trusted instincts had only failed him once, and he would bear the scars of that mistake for the rest of his life.
It taught a man caution.
“Two whistles if you have anything.” Damon looked around the box. “And be on guard.”
The men nodded and split up, each with his own weapon and a supply of coins to ease a reticent tongue. Three inns, one on either side of the Cock and Bull, and the one across the street. The Ram’s Ear. That was the one that interested Damon, the old instinct whispering insistently. He slipped around bins and barrels, weaving his way silently through the jumble toward the
inn door. The dogs were quiet, gnawing on some bones he had not been able to see from the carriage.
The common room was smoky and smelled of spilled ale, burned meat and boiled potatoes. In the far corner, two men in rough worker’s clothes were slumped against the wall. Tankards sat in front of them, leaving dull dark circles on the table. One of the men was snoring.
Someone had made an effort to clean the place before going off to bed because the floor was free of bones and the manure carried in from the stables, although a faint memory lingered on the air.
Head down on the long counter by the guest book, a young man dozed. Probably the owner’s son, Damon thought.
Catching him groggy and off guard would be ideal. Amazing what people divulged before their defenses came up. “I’m looking for an old man with a newborn babe,” he said softly in the boy’s ear.
“Upstairs, last room on the left,” the boy mumbled without lifting his head. But he was not asleep because he kept talking. “We thought summat was up with him. The babe’s been cryin all night. Some of our guests threatened ta leave. E’s yours, iffen ya want ’im.”
“Thank you. I do.” Damon set two gold shillings down on the counter. “There is more if it is the right man and baby.”
The boy lifted his head. His eyes were surprisingly clear, and interested now as he looked Damon over. “Is the babe yers? Was it a kidnappin?”
“Yes to both. Go outside and whistle twice. A man will be nearby waiting for the signal.” Damon walked around the end of the counter and up the stairs along the wall. He thought he could take Thomas alone, he had the strength of his fury, but Thomas was a sailor, and undoubtedly quick on his feet, where Damon had to remember his weak leg. “”
At the top of the stairs, he turned left, and just as he did, he heard a baby’s piercing scream. The anguished cry stopped him in his tracks for only a second. Shouts came from the rooms behind him. “Take ’im away!” “We’re tryin to sleep ’ere!” “Not agin!”
He ran down the hall toward the sound, and pounded on the solid wood door with the head of the cane.
The heavy door popped open abruptly. “Shuddup – ” Thomas gaped at Damon. “You! How did you find me?”
Damon shoved him hard enough to make Thomas stumble backward, and held him off with the knife tip of his cane. “Come near me, man, and I will use this. I doubt Verbena would blame me.”
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. Reggie burst in, and after one single look at Damon’s face, just stood there, blocking the exit.
With another quick twist, the knife disappeared. Damon did not think Thomas was a serious threat anyway. He had noticed something about Thomas when he first saw him, and as the man found his balance, still blustering empty threats, Damon saw it again.
Yellow eyes.
CHAPTER 30
The parlor was still lit when the carriage pulled up an hour before sunrise. The upper floors were dark. Damon hoped Verbena had gotten the girls to sleep, but he understood how hard it would be for them to drop off with all the tension and fear in the house.
Roderick whimpered in the basket beside him. Damon rubbed the little one’s empty stomach and hoped the movement kept the hunger pains away. Once Roderick got onto the breast and that essential task was done, he would have to take Verbena aside and tell her that her father was dying.
Together they would have to settle on a solution for the man’s final days. It would be wrong to let the man die alone, however tempting that was. Barnes had been nothing but a burden on her and the children, but family ties were awkward things and his wife had a loyal, loving heart.
No matter how hard she pleaded, however, Barnes would not be allowed into this house, not even to die. Damon would have to hire a strong man to nurse him through, but Thomas was not going to stay with them, however short the days left. He could not be trusted. Anyone who had put them through what they had endured this night forfeited all rights to the children.
Damon refused to pass Roderick over to anyone for the whole ride. He intended to be the one to bring him home.
The door swung wide before he reached it. Mrs. Thompson took one look at the bundle in his arms and burst into tears. “Ye found ’im! Oh, praise the Lord, e’s safe, the little mite!” She beckoned him in. “Get ’im out of the cold.” She dabbed at her eyes with her apron with one hand while she shut the door behind him with the other.
The house was quiet. No one came rushing out to meet him. “Has everyone gone to bed?”
Samuels was on his way down the stairs, possibly the only time he had missed catching the door before Damon reached it. “Mrs. Verbena got the girls to sleep shortly after two, but I think the boys are still awake. Your wife has been packing Mrs. Smythe’s face in snow all night.”
Mrs. Thompson interrupted. “That poor, poor woman has quite a bruise.”
Damon stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at her sharply. “Is anything broken?” The anger he had been able to hold at bay on the way home since he had Roderick safe in his arms rose again, hot and urgent. “She might need a doctor.”
“Well, I can’t say ‘bout broken, but she can open her mouth, and I gave her some tea. She did not have any problems swallowing. She can see out of that eye, too, so I’m thinkin she’ll be all right.”
Damon released a relieved breath. “I am glad for that. Where will I find my wife and my mother?”
“Mrs. Verbena is probably in the nursery with Mrs. Smythe at the moment. She ’as been pacin like to wear the floor clean away.”
Damon chuckled. “That sounds like her. And my mother?”
“I made up a room for her so she could get some rest.” She shook her head like a scolding mother. The frill on her mobcap bobbed as if in agreement. “A lady her age, beggin yer pardon, sir, oughten not be awake that late.”
“I think she should know right away. Will you wake her up? I will have their footmen wait and take her home. I think my parents should be together.” He started for the stairs, with her right behind. “Oh, and Mrs. Thompson? Can you prepare us some tea, and bring it up? I think we need to settle our nerves.”
She stopped on the stair and turned around. “Land, yes. I’ll bring it in as soon as it’s brewed. An’ I’ll wake your mother.”
He walked up the angled flight of stairs toward the next floor. He was only halfway down the hall when Verbena burst out of the nursery, her eyes wide and anxious.
She looked at him, then her eyes went to the bundle in his arms. “You found him.” Her voice was hushed, almost reverent, but piercingly clear in the quiet house. Gathering her skirts, she ran down the hall to him and slid to a halt. She reached out her hands, and he did not know for an instant which of them she meant to touch, himself or Roderick. Luminous green eyes, swimming in tears of joy, looked up at him. “You found him. Oh, Damon, you found him. How did you manage? Where were they?” Verbena slipped her hand under the little head and kissed Roderick on the forehead, only to stop abruptly and look up at Damon. “He is warm. Is he sick?”
“He has been crying, not surprisingly, but I think he will be fine. Hungry, certainly not happy, but he has not been abused.”
He thought he heard a dainty snort. “I have been so worried.” To his amazement, she rested her hand lightly on his arm, and went up on tiptoes, and then she brushed his mouth with lips as soft as rose petals.
In full view of any servants or family who might be watching.
When he lifted his head, he saw Julius and Matthew standing in the doorways of their rooms, grinning hugely. For all he knew, the whole staff had followed him up and was standing behind him in the hall, but he refused to care.
Verbena’s radiant face looked up at him, her eyes only on his face even as one hand cupped Roderick’s little head. The other hand still rested on his arm.
She turned to see the boys. “Everyone is home safe. Back to bed.” They obeyed. While they were fond of Roderick, neither of them needed to come and check him out for themselves.
/> “We have to get Roderick to Mrs. Smythe immediately,” Verbena said. “He must be starving, poor sweeting, and she needs to feed him.”
Damon shifted Roderick and prepared to hand him over. Instead of taking Roderick from his arms, though, she turned around and walked back to the nursery’s open door, leaving him standing there in the hallway.
He remembered the long trip from her aunt’s house, when Verbena did not want him so much as to sit on the same side of the carriage as the babe. She had not even worried that he would drop Roderick now, if she trusted him to finish the last walk to the nursery.
How things had changed.
He found himself smiling as he followed her down the hall.
*
Nerves tingled down her arms as Verbena slipped away from the nursery. She was not needed right now, and for the first time since she felt her position was being taken over, she was glad.
Everything was as good as they could hope for. Damon had examined Mrs. Smythe’s bruised cheek and pronounced it no more than a very bad bruise, then had discreetly left so Roderick could get a much needed feeding. Alice was helping Mrs. Smythe with her own son, who had decided since the rest of the house was up and about, it must be time to play.
Lastly, Mrs. Thern had reassured herself that every inch of her grandson was unmarred, kissed Roderick’s head, and took Samuels’ arm to be led out to the waiting carriage and her husband.
Verbena had spent these last hours, whenever her mind was calm enough, rehearsing how to apologize to Damon. All those months of resentment had to be wiped away, if an apology was sufficient for such a task. She had been so worried about the dangers from his family, and all the while, her family’s sins were the worst.
She owed him so much more than the apology. She had to tell him she loved him. It could not be put off any longer. He had gone into the dangerous London night to find Roderick, and had succeeded.
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