by Sarah Ladd
His justification was too quick. Too complete. Graham forced a stare, daring Littleton to look away. “Coincidental, do you not think?”
Littleton shook his head. “What do you mean?”
“Just two days ago the three of us are in Darbury. Lucy is kidnapped. I receive a ransom note demanding that I come here. And now I find you.”
Littleton’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like what you are suggesting, Sterling.”
Graham shrugged. “I suggested nothing. I merely presented facts.”
“I had nothing to do with your daughter’s disappearance, if that’s what you are implying.”
“Listen to that, William.” Graham’s words were addressed to his brother, but his stare never left Littleton’s face. He stepped even closer, forcing the man to look him square in the eye. “If I find out you had any role in what happened, I will see that you pay.”
Littleton’s face deepened to crimson, and his chin shook. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction that the other men had disappeared. “As much as I would like to stay here with you gentlemen, I have business to attend to.” He spun on his heel and headed after his colleagues.
William watched as Littleton darted across the street and into the crowd. “Where do you suppose he is going?”
Graham wondered the same question. Littleton wove through the crowd, his pace increasing. Something was not right. He could feel it as surely as he could sense a storm brewing on the seas. “I don’t trust that fellow. He knows something, so I am going to follow him. Go get Sulter. He went to meet with Kingston at George’s Dock. Can you find it?”
“I can manage.”
“Good. Then let’s all meet back here in about an hour. Oh, and, William?”
“Yeah?”
“Tell them to bring their pistols.”
Darkness surrounded Amelia. She yanked a coarse blindfold from her face.
Edward Littleton is behind this. Edward has Lucy.
Angry, frightened, and sore, she pushed herself off a dirty floor and sat up. She attempted to brush mud from her cloak and peeled off her soggy, soiled glove. Within seconds her eyes adjusted to the narrow stream of light filtering through a rip in the black rag covering a high window.
Where was she?
She attempted to stand, and at the movement overwhelming pain sliced through her forehead. She pressed her palm against her head. The last thing Amelia remembered was being lifted onto something and blindfolded.
She forced herself to remain calm. Her second attempt to stand was successful, and she turned in a circle to assess her surroundings. A lumpy straw mattress in the corner. A single chair against the wall. A chamber pot. A dusty planked floor. A closed wooden door.
She staggered toward the door and jiggled the handle. Locked. She struggled to make her voice confident and strong as she knocked on it. “Edward Littleton? I want to speak with Edward Littleton.”
A shuffle outside vibrated the floor beneath her, and steps pounded toward her door. “Shut yer mouth, or I’ll shut it fer ye!”
Her legs trembled, but sheer determination kept her voice steady. “I will not be silent. I know Mr. Littleton is the reason I am here, and I demand to speak with him.”
Laughter sounded from the other side of the door, and she heard whispering. “Demand all ye want. Ye’ll not be speakin’ to no one.”
She grabbed the door’s ancient handle and shook it again, with more vigor, but something heavy on the other side prevented it from swinging open. She expelled her breath and leaned back against the wall with a thud. The scanty wall wobbled with her weight, and at the movement came a sound sweeter than any she had ever heard. A baby’s cry.
“Lucy!” Joy surged through Amelia at the painfully familiar cry. Her knees threatened to buckle beneath her. She shook the door until her muscles burned with fatigue. “Let me out!”
Laughter rang out once again. She stood back away from the door and stared at her obstacle, her chest heaving with the exertion. She had to get out of there to get to Lucy. Waiting for their laughter to die down, she decided to change her tactic. “I’ll stay in here and will not disturb you. You have my word. Just, please, let the baby come in here with me.”
“Not on yer life, lady.”
Amelia succumbed to the shaking in her legs and slid down the wall. She shivered when she once again heard the sweet cry. It was the cry Lucy gave when she was hungry or tired . . . not scared. At least she was safe. Alive.
Drawing her knees to her chest, Amelia trembled in the dark room. She leaned her forehead against her knees. Tears began, every inch of her body wracked with sobs. Why was this happening? If she ever needed an answer to prayer, it was now, and she assumed God would hear her just as well in this shabby room as in her chamber at Winterwood Manor.
And so she prayed.
Graham shaded his eyes with his hand and glanced up at the noonday sun. Spots of sunlight danced among the ever-present clouds. From where he stood, he could keep an eye on the location where he told William to meet him and the warehouse that Littleton had disappeared into. He scanned the wide, muddy street, looking for William. An hour had passed, and the dock was but a short walk away. What was taking so long?
He returned his attention to the warehouse. As far as he could tell, Littleton had been inside the entire time. To his knowledge, no one had entered. None had exited.
People swarmed the square and wagons lined the streets, making it easy for Graham to remain unnoticed in broad daylight. He leaned against the abandoned cart he had chosen for cover. Had it been a mistake to trust William to get Sulter? His brother hadn’t proved himself to be very trustworthy in the past, but surely he could be trusted on such a simple mission.
Graham pulled his hat low over his eyes. He couldn’t think about that now. It was time for action. He’d prefer to have assistance, but he’d act alone if necessary.
Just as he was about to move toward the building on his own, he saw them. William approached from the right, Sulter following closely, their black and gray coats and low hats blending them into the crowd. Graham straightened as they approached and made room for them behind the cart, looking about to make sure no one saw them gather. He was about to greet them when their expressions made him stop. He straightened. Something was wrong.
“What is it?”
Sulter gave a quick glance over to William before speaking. “It’s Miss Barrett, Graham. She’s gone.”
The words didn’t make sense. “What do you mean, gone?”
Sulter pressed his lips together before speaking. “She and my Becky went to the market. When Becky came out of the butcher shop, Miss Barrett wasn’t there. She asked around and was told by an onlooker that two men grabbed Miss Barrett. But nobody saw where they took her.”
Fierce panic seized Graham as Sulter’s words scorched his ears. Amelia? If it had been any other man besides Sulter, he would not believe the words. His eyes darted to his brother, whose somber expression confirmed what he’d heard. Graham sucked in a sharp breath. “I told her not to leave.”
Sulter stretched out his hands as if to calm Graham. “We went to the scene, but we found nothing.”
Graham had seen many battles. He was no stranger to danger and fear. But he also knew it was crucial to stay calm in the face of the enemy. But never before had an attack been so personal. First Lucy. Now Amelia. His heart was unversed in how to react. “Littleton’s behind this.”
Graham cast a quick glance back at the warehouse where Littleton had disappeared. Lucy, Mrs. Dunne, and Amelia were all in danger—if not worse. He flexed his scarred hand, and then he noticed it. Someone was absent. “Where’s Kingston?”
Sulter and William exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Graham knew their answer before they said a word. “I searched everywhere.” Sulter’s voice was low. “He was not to be found.”
“Blast!” Graham slammed his fist against the wall next to him. His cravat grew unbearably tight as thoughts fired at him in rapid succe
ssion. He needed to fight the sinking feeling and stay calm. For Lucy. And now, for Amelia.
“Sorry, Graham.” Sulter spoke with utter sincerity.
“We don’t need him,” Graham blurted, giving rise to his own confidence. “Littleton’s in that warehouse. I’ll get Lucy and Amelia back if I have to rip it down brick by brick.”
Sulter’s voice, as ever, was calm. “Consider, Graham. We do not know how many men are in there. May I suggest we wait un—”
“No!” Graham would not hear of waiting. Not now. Not when he was so close. He’d made a mistake trusting Kingston, and he would deal with the rogue later. But he would not make another mistake and risk losing everything. He whirled around. “Do you have a firearm?”
Sulter opened his coat just enough so Graham could see the flash of metal tucked in his waistband. William nodded, his face flushed. The thought of William fumbling to clean the pistol in the library flashed into Graham’s mind. He eyed William. “Do you even know how to fire that thing?”
“Well, I told you I’m more of a horseman, but I’m not ignorant. I can shoot well enough.” William’s nervous laugh did little to convince Graham. He needed everyone to be confident. Disciplined. And William’s experience in this type of pursuit was limited at best. But what choice did he have? He had these two men willing to help, and he needed each one. He slapped his hand on William’s shoulder.
“All right, men. Here is what we are going to do.”
Amelia tucked her feet below her as she watched a beetle scurry along the wall’s edge and disappear in a crack. A shiver pulsed through her limbs, and she bit her lower lip. The lengthening shadows slipping in from behind the curtain hinted dusk was about to fall. Not since she demanded to speak with Edward Littleton had she heard so much as a peep, save for a whimper from Lucy. How much time had passed? Six hours? More?
She wrapped her cape around her, grateful for the little warmth it provided. Her thoughts turned to Helena. The shock of seeing her in Liverpool with Edward had not worn off. The argument Amelia witnessed had been heated indeed. Had Helena been helping Littleton with the kidnapping, or had she been trying to intervene?
Amelia scanned her surroundings, now barely visible in the dying light. How long would she be kept here? How on earth would Graham find her? Jane had said that God would never leave her nor forsake her. Was he watching her now, protecting her? Was he watching Lucy and Mrs. Dunne?
A tapping on the wall startled her. She scrambled to her feet and searched anxiously for the source of the noise. The tapping continued, then a finger poked through a small hole at the bottom of the wall. Amelia’s heart leapt to her chest, and a cry escaped her lips. But the whisper that followed had a familiar Irish lilt. “Miss Barrett. Miss Barrett, are you there?”
Mrs. Dunne! Desperate for contact, she fell against the filthy floor and grabbed the finger with her own. “Mrs. Dunne, are you all right?”
The older woman’s pudgy finger wrapped around hers, and its warmth seemed to spread through Amelia like hot tea on a frosty day. “I’m fine. And Lucy’s fine, praise be to God. It’s Mr. Littleton who’s behind this. None other.”
Amelia’s heart raced faster than ever. “What else do you know?”
“Shhh . . . you’ll need to stay quiet now. The man who’s keeping guard—Jack’s his name—he’s finally nodded off.”
“My door is closed. Locked. I can’t see a thing.”
“From what I heard, they’re planning on exchanging us in the morning for money. But if Captain Sterling doesn’t deliver it, then they’ll put us on a ship bound for Barbados.”
“Barbados?” Amelia had heard lurid tales about orphans being kidnapped and sold in the islands where abolition had created the need for cheap labor. She never imagined the stories could actually be true. Fear trailed down her back as a scene played across her mind.
She squeezed Mrs. Dunne’s finger. “Is Lucy all right? Is she frightened?”
“She is doing just fine. Doesn’t seem to know a thing is different. She’s asleep right next to me, she is.”
“Do not worry, Mrs. Dunne. Captain Sterling will find us.” Her words were directed to herself as much as to the nurse. “He’s been out looking all day.”
“Does he have enough to pay the ransom?”
“He does. Let’s just pray it all goes well.” She hesitated, but her desire for the truth outweighed the need for discretion. “Are you aware of Helena being involved?”
“What, Miss Helena Barrett?”
“The very same.”
“No, ma’am, not at all. Surely you do not think—”
Without warning, a crash thundered from outside her door. Amelia gasped and jumped to her feet, and Mrs. Dunne’s finger disappeared through the hole in the wall. A distant door creaked on its hinges, and boots stomped the planked floors. The blood pounded in her ears with such intensity that she feared she wouldn’t be able to hear a thing.
Two, perhaps three male voices echoed, but her heart lurched when she heard one voice in particular. Edward.
“Where is she?”
Amelia stiffened. She knew he was talking about her. Her hair, which had long since fallen free of her ivory comb, hung limply over her shoulders. She combed her shaky hands through the tangled curls. She might not feel confident, but by the grace of God, she would appear so.
Something was dragged away from the door. Amelia held her breath as the latch turned and the door swung open. Light from a lantern stung her eyes. Determined to show no weakness, she forced her eyes wide.
“What is she doing in the dark?” Edward hissed at the men behind him. “Is this any way to treat a lady?” He shouted his reprimand over his shoulder as he stepped into the dingy room, a lit tin lantern in hand. Dark shadows hid his features, but she could imagine the smirk he used to give her when he believed he had the upper hand. Well, those days were in the past . . . and they had taken a very dangerous turn. She had to be strong now—for Lucy and for herself.
She jutted her chin in the air. “I demand to know what is going on, Edward.”
“I think you know exactly what is going on, Amelia dear.”
“You are mistaken. Perhaps you had better explain it to me.”
He chuckled. “Oh, Amelia, do not be coy. It doesn’t suit you. You understand perfectly.”
Even in the dark, she saw the outline of his firm jaw. High cheekbones. How had she ever thought him handsome? Charming? His customary scent of port and tobacco assaulted her senses. She winced as his forefinger traced down her cheek, but she refused to allow her gaze to falter. “You’re a liar, Edward Littleton.” Her pointed accusation reverberated from every surface in the room. “I know you are angry with me, but how could you do this to an innocent child?”
Her statement seemed to amuse him. His white teeth flashed in the darkness. “You forced me to. Do you not see it?”
“I forced you to do nothing.”
“On the contrary.” With slow, deliberate steps he began to circle her, like a hawk circling its prey. She straightened her posture and stared forward. She would not give him the satisfaction of showing any fear.
He continued in hushed tones. “You betrayed me, Amelia, and see where that has gotten you?”
Amelia winced as he leaned close to her, his thick fingers caressing her shoulder. “Where’s Helena?”
“Helena?”
“I saw you with her. Where is she?”
“Do not trouble yourself with Helena. She is not your concern.” He dropped his hand and called back over his shoulder, “Get the baby and the nurse and get ready to head to the docks.” He turned his attention back to Amelia. “And don’t think I have forgotten you.”
Amelia gritted her teeth. She glanced around, searching for a means of escape, but Edward’s large frame blocked the door, and behind him stood at least three other men. “Where are you taking us?”
“That would spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? No doubt you expect your dashing Captain Sterling
to rush to your aid. But we shall see about that, shall we not?”
Amelia balled her fists at her sides. But suddenly, it all faded when she caught sight of what she had been waiting for days to see—a glimpse of Lucy, her Lucy. The baby’s face was dirty and tearstained, and she squirmed in the arms of a strange man.
Amelia’s nostrils flared, but she forced herself to remain controlled. This was a game to Edward. She could play it too. “I know what you are after. I’m no fool. Let Mrs. Dunne and Lucy go free, and I will give you whatever you want.”
A lewd sneer twisted his face. “Whatever I want?”
She ignored his innuendo. “I’m talking about money. That is what this is about, is it not? Name your sum, and I give you my word, I will make arrangements to get you what you want.”
He snorted. “You give me your word? Ha! I seem to remember that you gave me your word on another matter, and look how well that came to fruition. Your word is useless to me. If you had made that proposition a few days ago, I might have been able to accept your generous offer, but now I have another score to settle.”
He didn’t need to explain. Graham.
Amelia jumped as Edward leaned back and shouted, “Bring her in.” Then she gasped as a broad-shouldered man pulled Helena into the doorway. Helena’s chestnut hair hung loose about her shoulders, and tears wet her face. A rip in her cloak caused it to hang on her at an awkward angle, and her hands were bound behind her back.
“Helena!” Amelia tried to push past Edward to get to her cousin, but he grabbed her arm and held her tight.
His lip curled in a sickening smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” Producing a slender length of rope from somewhere, he stepped behind her and began to tie her hands.
“Tell me, dearest Amelia, are you fond of the sea?”
Edward took hold of Amelia’s elbow, just as gently as he had dozens of times at Winterwood. Except they were not at Winterwood, and instead of her arms swinging freely by her sides, a coarse rope bound her hands together at the wrists.