“Still here,” Victoria replied.
“Did anything occur whilst I was asleep?” She blinked slowly.
Victoria got up and stretched out her aching limbs. “Nothing of note.”
“I confess, I do not even remember falling asleep. I must have felt safe enough to drift off because of you.” Miss Longacre yawned. She even made that look delicate, whereas Victoria would have been reminiscent of a gaping sow.
“I should depart before anyone finds me here, and wonders what on earth is going on.” Victoria smoothed down the front of her ruffled gown, and realized how bizarre she would look, stealing out of the house in her finery. Why, people would think her a common hussy.
“You may borrow one of my day dresses, if you like?” Miss Longacre must have noticed Victoria’s hesitation.
Victoria sighed with relief. “Thank you, Miss Longacre. I will return it as soon as I am able.”
“Nonsense. It is the least I can do, after you have stood guard over me all night.” Miss Longacre threw back the covers and padded over to her armoire, selecting a cotton dress of periwinkle blue and handing it to Victoria.
Needing no further persuasion, Victoria darted behind the elaborate silk screen that stood in one corner of Miss Longacre’s bedchamber and hurriedly donned the plainer dress. Although, it was still far grander than anything Victoria owned for her daily attire.
More comfortable now, she emerged with the emerald gown draped over her arm.
“Allow me to keep that for you, until you return,” Miss Longacre insisted, taking the gown from Victoria.
“Thank you.” Victoria mustered an awkward curtsy. “Now, I should be on my way, to make sure that Lord Galbury hasn’t become an icicle.”
Miss Longacre chuckled. “I hope to see you again, McCarthy, under better circumstances. I meant what I said about inviting you and Lord Galbury to dine with me this week.” She paused. “May I speak frankly with you?”
“Of course. I prefer frankness,” Victoria replied.
“I very much hope that you will be able to locate Lady Helena, and the rest of the missing ladies. But if I may be so bold; I never did think that he and Lady Helena were suited. Indeed, I cannot recall him ever looking at her the way he looked at you, whilst you danced.” She smiled. “I don’t believe Lady Helena has ever desired to marry him, either. They have always been more like brother and sister, than lovestruck partners, merely doing as their families instructed.”
Victoria floundered. “Uh… why are you telling me this?”
“As I said, I have never seen Lord Galbury look at anyone the way he looked at you last night. I suppose I am telling you this, as another woman, because I… well, you may think me foolish, but I believe in love, McCarthy. And, if there is any possible way that you and Lord Galbury may have a chance of love, then you must not let it slip through your fingers.”
“Love?” Victoria choked.
“The seedlings of it are there, between the two of you. It was plain to see, as you danced. I know that he is an Earl, but that allows him certain freedoms—he may decide his own future, if he is brave enough to forgo the promises he made when his mother and father lived. Although, I knew them somewhat, and I am certain they would rather have seen their son happy, than watch him spend his life with the wrong person.” Miss Longacre lowered her gaze. “As for Lady Helena, once she is safely returned, I know she would feel the same.”
Victoria frowned. “How so?”
“Because she has looked at another the way that Lord Galbury looked at you. I should not say so, but I must.” Miss Longacre raised her head. “If those two wed one another, they will be miserable. If you can, once Lady Helena has been rescued, urge them to let one another go.”
“Lady Helena is in love with someone else?” Victoria felt as though her eyes might explode out of her head.
“I believe so. She cares for Lord Galbury, but caring is not loving. And one must be in love in order to be happy in a marriage.”
“Who is the gentleman?” Victoria pressed, still reeling from the revelation.
Miss Longacre shook her head. “It is not my place to say. Now, go, before my lady’s maid comes in and decides to have me taken to a sanitorium for having strange women in my bedchamber.”
“Can I say one more thing?” Victoria asked, spurred on by a sudden impulse.
“Of course.”
“Please do not marry Sir John Regis, no matter what he offers your father. Avoid him at all costs. I heard him talking of you, and it made me sick to my stomach. If you believe in love, then find it for yourself. Accept nothing less,” Victoria urged.
Miss Longacre’s eyes widened. “I will, McCarthy. Indeed… though you must not tell a soul; I have already been blessed with love.”
“You have?” Another startling revelation that left Victoria’s head spinning. How could this young lady, at ten-and-eight, have achieved so much more, romantically speaking, than she had done in her three-and-twenty? Why, Victoria did not even know what to make of the idea that there could be seedlings of love between her and Christian. The prospect seemed more frightening to her than a toothless brute, about to knock seven bells out of her.
Miss Longacre nodded. “The engagement is to be announced tomorrow.”
“Who is the lucky bridegroom?”
She chuckled. “I would not want to ruin the surprise. You will have to wait and see.”
Knowing the house would soon awaken, Victoria didn’t want to linger any longer, no matter how curious she may have been about this mystery bridegroom. And so, with a cursory farewell and a promise to return Miss Longacre’s dress, Victoria headed out of the bedchamber and hurried along the corridor. She paused at the top of the staircase to make sure there was no one around and scampered down them.
Trying to remember the layout of the house, she headed for the ballroom, knowing there was a doorway there that led out into the gardens. Tiptoeing through the remnant chaos of last night, she spied Sir John and Lord Mobberley, still sound asleep in the chairs where she had last seen them.
Is it you? Did you leave her be because you were sleeping? She huffed out an exasperated sigh and stole out of the back door, feeling the bracing cold of the morning upon her cheeks as she went in search of Christian. The truth was, they were no closer to apprehending these kidnappers. And that irked her, more than she could possibly say. She ought to have been further along by now, but every surety had turned into a doubt. And it felt as though she no longer had any solid ground to work from.
“Christian?” she hissed. Morning fog rolled across the lawn, giving an air of eeriness to the landscape. It parted like liquid as she moved through it, seeking out her partner.
Seedlings of love… She had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at me… Victoria had a stern word with herself, to chase those absurd thoughts away. He may be an Earl, in charge of his own destiny, but she didn’t belong in his world. She spent most of her time knee deep in the muck and filth of London, righting wrongs and not caring what others thought of her. To allow herself to fall for Christian, and to, maybe, be adored in return, would put her in a spotlight that she did not want.
“Over here!” Christian called, his voice echoing from behind a high wall of shrubbery. It took her a moment to find him in that labyrinth of foliage. When she finally did, she saw him huddled in a sheltered alcove in a miniature walled garden, with a fishpond in the center where sleek koi twisted and turned beneath.
“Why didn’t you steal a coat from the house before you came out? There were plenty of them lying about,” she chided softly, noting how violently he shivered.
“Because I am not a common thief,” he smirked, rubbing his arms to warm them up.
“Come, we should get you back to your home before you really do catch your death out here.” Going to him, she helped him up from his cramped seat and, together, they headed away from the townhouse by way of the back gate.
Victoria kept her eyes open for any sign t
hat there had been miscreants in the alley, but there were no unwarranted scrapes or footprints or equine detritus to suggest it.
They didn’t have to walk far before they happened upon Christian’s personal carriage. The driver had been instructed to wait, and appeared to have fallen asleep upon the bench, wrapped in no less than four layers of thick blankets.
At least he had the right idea. The driver jolted awake at the gentle touch of Christian’s hand upon his arm.
“Take me home, Harrison,” Christian said.
“Aye, My Lord. As you like.” The driver shifted in his seat as Christian and Victoria climbed inside the carriage. A moment later, Victoria heard the snap of reins, and the carriage trundled off toward Christian’s residence. A place she remembered fondly.
She wondered if she ought to ask Christian to take her to her mother’s house first, but seeing his chilled state, and his pale features, she decided against it. Before she could rest, she needed to make sure that Christian suffered no ill effects of being out in the cold all night.
“Did you hear anything whilst you were in the gardens?” She broke the silence, letting the weary Christian lean into her as they sat side-by-side upon the squab.
He chuckled oddly. “The milkman.”
“The milkman?”
He laughed harder. “I thought it was the kidnapper. In fact, I convinced myself that he had left a warning at the back door, for the Whitfields. But when I went to check, I found nothing but two urns of fresh milk.”
Victoria snorted. “Imagine if you had jumped on him, as he made his way to the house.”
“I would be the one being thrown in jail.” He grinned and peered up at her. “Did you hear anything from within the house?”
Victoria met his gaze. “No. Miss Longacre slept soundly.”
“Why do you think the kidnappers didn’t come for her?”
Victoria shrugged, feeling her own weariness set in. She may have been accustomed to sleepless nights, but there were only so many days one could go without some rest, before it started to skew the brain. “Perhaps we were mistaken about Miss Longacre’s value. No Viscount’s daughter has been taken, prior to this. Maybe it is as much to do with status as wealth, after all. Maybe her status simply was not high enough to warrant targeting.”
“At least we know that one young lady is safe.” Christian yawned.
“For now.” Victoria sank back against the plush velvet and struggled to keep the dark oblivion of slumber away. True, the kidnappers had not come for Miss Longacre that night. But that did not mean they would not, one of these days… when Victoria would not be there to stop them.
A short while later, after successfully fending of sleep, the carriage pulled up outside Christian’s townhouse. He exited the carriage first and then offered a hand to help Victoria down.
“It makes little sense for you to return home at such an hour,” he said, without prompting. “I have plenty of rooms, and you may use one to take your rest.”
Victoria lacked the energy to argue. “That is very kind, Christian.”
“Besides, we did say that you were staying at my abode, as my cousin. So, it would be prudent for us to maintain the ruse, in case any prying eyes happen to be watching.” He flashed her a mischievous smile and helped her up to the front door.
They had barely set foot in the entrance hall, when the housekeeper came barreling along, her face white as a sheet and her eyes staring like a wild horse.
“Mrs. Gittins, whatever is the matter?” Christian urged.
“There’s been another one, M’Lord!” she shrieked in reply.
Victoria frowned. “Another one? Another what? Speak plainly!”
“There’s been another kidnapping!” Mrs. Gittins clasped her hand to her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.
Victoria and Christian exchanged a grim look. “Who has been taken?” Victoria asked calmly, though her heart had begun to race like a runaway mare.
“Lady Jane,” Mrs. Gittins cried.
“Which Lady Jane?” Christian replied.
Mrs. Gittins jittered so violently that Victoria worried she might suddenly combust. “The Duchess of Sopworth’s daughter, M’Lord! It happened last night; I just heard it from the boy who delivers the meat. The Duchess bid her goodnight, went to her own chamber, and, when the sun came up… Lady Jane were gone!”
Victoria’s heart sank as realization dawned. The kidnappers had used Miss Longacre’s ball as a distraction, observing their prey in a crowded setting. The least obvious prey.
We were watching the wrong girl…
Chapter 15
Forgoing sleep, despite the lead weight of his eyelids, Christian accompanied Victoria to the home of the Duchess of Sopworth. When they arrived, there were already a bevy of investigators waiting outside in the street.
She hasn’t allowed them entry. Christian recognized the scene, for it had been the same with Lady Helena’s mother and father. They hadn’t wanted strangers traipsing through their home and ransacking their daughter’s bedchamber, even if it might have helped in the finding of her.
“Do you think you can get us inside?” Victoria murmured.
Christian nodded. “We may have to tell the truth of who you are, but she will not refuse me entry, even at such a time as this.” He scoured the clusters of investigators for any sign of the Admiral, but he didn’t appear to be here. “Do you think the Admiral knows of this yet?”
“If he doesn’t, he will once we have spoken with the Duchess,” Victoria replied.
“Oh, here she comes!” one of the investigators jeered. “The Vixen, come to take all the glory for herself. Wriggling her way into places we can’t.”
Christian arched an eyebrow. “The Vixen?”
“They think they are clever,” she retorted. “It is their nickname for me, because I happen to be wilier than they are, and my name bears a vague similarity to that word. Not very clever, as it happens, but it keeps them happy.” She set off for the front steps of the Duchess’ house, leaving Christian with no choice but to follow. He sensed the burning eyes of the other investigators upon his back as he stood at her side. No doubt, they were growing tired of being left out in the cold, whilst Victoria continued to be given access.
She is more worthy than all of you. She is the one who will succeed in this. They may have had a setback last night, and they may have fixed their attentions on the wrong young lady, but at least they were doing something, instead of standing around complaining about injustices.
“Whoever took Lady Jane—they had to have been there last night. Even if they were not in actual attendance, they were watching the ball. They were watching Lady Jane,” Victoria muttered, almost to herself.
“I agree.”
Victoria looked at him, as though she had only just remembered he was there. “The only thing is, Lady Jane does not fit the description of the other ladies who were taken. Yes, she may be of slight build, but the other ladies were… well, for lack of a more polite term; they were beauties.”
“Perhaps they are looking for something different now,” Christian suggested. “Or, perhaps, the beauty of the previous captives was simply accidental. They were all sole daughters of their parents. Lady Jane is the sole child of this household. That continues in the same vein as the prior captives.”
“You may be right.”
At that moment, the door opened, and the butler answered. He immediately recognized Christian, as most households in this part of London were wont to do.
“My Lord, this is rather unexpected. Are you here to speak with His Grace?”
Christian took the lead. “Actually, I wanted to speak with Her Grace. I heard the awful news, and desired to offer my condolences, and see if I could lend any solace to Her Grace. As you know, I have recently endured the same pain, and I know how severely the Duchess of Pelsley suffered upon the initial shock of discovering Lady Helena’s disappearance. I may be the only one in Mayfair who can bring Her Grace comfort, in
this dire time.”
The butler hesitated. “Then… I suppose you ought to come in. I shall place you in the front parlor and see if Her Grace has the strength to speak with you, though I cannot make any assurances.”
“Thank you. If she is unable to meet with us, I shall wholeheartedly understand, but it will not serve her well to be alone at this present moment. Please, try to convince her of that,” Christian implored. He meant it, too. Yes, he was here to gain information about what had happened between Lady Jane’s departure from the ball and being taken, but he truly did desire to help the Duchess of Sopworth however he could.
Turning, he cast one look back at the furious audience of investigators. Countless pairs of eyes glowered at him from the icy morning, followed by a susurration of aggravated grumbles, mostly directed at the receding figure of Victoria. Their chagrin could not have been more palpable, adding an extra chill to the air, but he could not spare an ounce of sympathy for them. Victoria was his hope. He believed in her. And if that meant putting her ahead of everyone else, then so be it.
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