No one but Ravencliffe and their courier knew the situation, unless someone had intercepted Ravencliffe's inquiry to Summerfield or—incredible as it might seem—could the Earl of Summerfield himself have orchestrated an abduction of the girl after Ravencliffe contacted him?
But why would the earl do such a thing? To protect her? She was safer away from prying eyes. The earl was one of the most respected and acknowledged patriots of the realm. No, it couldn’t be him. Summerfield is fatally ill. If not Summerfield, then someone on his staff must be working for the French. Any other scenario defied logic.
The earl must have delegated much of his correspondence to his secretary or some other such staff member, and wouldn’t know of the plot, his cousin's involvement, or of the vile threat to the child. What of someone else in his household? Whoever that someone was, he must have seen the earl’s letter, discovered Alice's location, and taken her into his control.
The deadline for Goodwin to provide the supply dates and routes was at hand—and they had both Alice and Julia. The throbbing at his skull pounded a steady cadence. Find-them, find-them, find-them...
RENARD'S MEN SET A rapid pace and, inside the carriage, Julia and Alice braced themselves against the jostling motion. Alice had gone quiet, her face pale and her eyes scrunched tight, Julia’s heart went out to her. Poor child. The rough ride so soon after her traumatic experience must terrify her. Julia put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her to her side.
"The coachman is an excellent driver,” she assured Alice. “We shall arrive safely.”
Alice opened her eyes. "Where are we going?"
"To London, as Ned said,” Julia told her. "Cousin Renard has a townhouse there and you will be safe until your Papa can come for you.”
Renard spent all his time in London since he disliked the family estate where she had lived until her failed Season, and before she moved to the cottage. He rarely visited her when she was growing up, preferring to be in the city, which he called the lifeblood of England. Remembering the crowded, noisy streets, Julia wished he’d sent them to the estate instead. She had her own traumatic memories.
Renard had been greatly embarrassed and disgruntled at Julia's disastrous come out. Only days earlier he had informed her that intended for her to act as his social hostess once she was of age. But her infamous breakdown had ruined his plans.
Little as she had seen him before her Season, she saw him less frequently after her ballroom scene. Instead, he had corresponded through quarterly letters that arrived with her allowance and the occasional woman in need. She’d seen him only once in five years.
Alice gazed at her, her eyes reflecting her concern. "Will Mr. Sheffield come, too?"
"I don't know, though I doubt it.” Julia admitted. She stroked Alice’s hair to comfort her. "He knows my cousin will look after us. His job is done.”
"I don't like Ned,” Alice declared. "I like Mr. Sheffield better. I want to stay with him.”
Julia could not blame the child. Tristan had taken great pains to keep Alice entertained and charmed. Ned was blunt and coarse and cared for no one but her cousin. She admired her cousin if not his employee, but Renard was not a demonstrative man and, though they would be safe, they would not be entertained. Considering her frustration and embarrassment during her confinement in Surrey, she would never have imagined it, but she thought she preferred staying with Tristan too.
They did not stop except to change horses and arrived in the outskirts of London as the last of the twilight faded into dark. When Ned opened the door to the carriage Julia immediately reacted to the foul sewer odor that filled the compartment. Though the noise outside the carriage had increased as they entered the city, the recent tenor of sound held a note Julia remembered too well. The docks.
"This is not Renard's townhouse,” Julia protested. "Why have you brought us here?"
"You're not to stay at the townhouse,” Ned announced. "You'll be stayin' here 'til Lord Summerfield sends for you or sends you away.” He grinned and reached to pull her forward. "His lordship were displeased to learn you'd let the child be taken.”
His grasp tightened and he pulled her out of the carriage with a sudden yank. Julia nearly lost her footing on the step, but managed to avoid crashing into Ned, though she thought that had been his intent. She pulled her arm from his grasp and sent him a warning look. "Renard has been disappointed in me before, but he will not tolerate disrespect.”
She inspected the neighborhood and fought down sudden trepidation. She had no funds of her own, and the area was too dangerous for her and Alice to make their way to the townhouse on foot. If Ned did not allow her to redirect the coach to Renard's residence, she had no choice but to stay where Ned delivered them.
The narrow street lay between tenements and taverns. The building on the corner had the look of a brothel. Raucous music, drunken laughter, and arguments already filled the evening air. Had Renard been so angry that he would banish them here?
No. A gentleman would never—her cousin would never do such a thing. The kidnappers had threatened Alice with life in a brothel. Perhaps Renard wanted her to understand the conditions Alice faced if Julia failed her again. That was it.
"You may take us to Renard now,” Julia told Ned. "He has made his point. I understand.”
"I don't think you do understand.” Ned smirked. "You are to stay here.” He turned back to the carriage door. "Get out here, girl. Ride's over.”
Truth hit her like an icy bath of water. Ned truly meant to leave them here.
When Alice didn't move, Ned lurched up and grabbed her. Alice cried out in alarm and Julia leapt forward. "What are you doing? Don’t hurt her!"
He stepped back down, Alice's struggling body clutched tight against him. "Tain't nothin' hurt but her feelin’s,” he said. "Come along, both of you. Room's on the third floor.”
"This can’t be right,” Julia protested again, truly frightened, now. "Take us to Renard right now, Ned. I must speak with him.”
Ned smirked. Holding the wriggling Alice he glanced at his partner, "She don't get it, Tom. Looks like we got to convince her.”
Tom dismounted. To her absolute shock, he lowered his shoulder and tossed her over it before she realized his intent. The sudden move knocked the breath from her lungs and sent blood rushing to her head. His arms clamped around her legs and he boosted her hips until she could do nothing but hang down his back.
She struggled, panic thrumming in her heart, but Tom held her tightly. She tried to kick free, but he’d locked his arms around her legs at thigh and calf. She tried to bite him but movement made it impossible to get a grip on his flesh. Julia swung an arm free and pounded Tom’s shoulder, to no avail. He wasn’t as large as Ned, but he was larger than her and had wiry strength.
He had entered the building and climbed the narrow, creaking stairwell. Inside the building, the sewer smells of the docks joined those of rancid food, unwashed bodies, and mold.
Terrified, Julia pounded his back again. "Put me down!" she demanded. "Put me down, I say!"
"Shut yer gob.” Ned said. "You're to stay here 'til 'is Lordship says otherwise.”
“If you bother to tell him,” Tom muttered as he shifted Julia higher on his shoulder.
She twisted to catch a glimpse of Ned who followed behind carrying Alice, his hand over her mouth. Huge frightened blue eyes peered over his hand and Julia knew that Ned was responsible for the scheme to blackmail Alice's father. No matter what Ned said, Renard would not treat her this way, nor was he a traitor. He was ill and her cousin had been betrayed by the men he'd employed and trusted for years.
They reached the first landing and Julia noticed of the sounds that echoed through the halls. Babies cried, children squabbled and adults argued. As Tom started up the third flight of stairs, she heard a door open.
"Help!" she cried. "Help us! We are being kidnapped!"
The door slammed shut
Despair flooded her, drowning what little courage she had. Those who li
ved near the docks either perpetrated unsavory actions or hid from them. No other doors opened until they reached the third floor and Tom entered a cramped, cold room.
He strode through to a second, smaller room where he bent and dropped Julia from his shoulder onto a thin straw-filled pallet on the floor. The pallet did little to alleviate the painful thud of her head and back when she landed. She immediately scrambled upright, her wary gaze taking in the Spartan furnishings.
A cheap narrow table sat against the wall flanked by two hardback chairs. No rugs warmed the floorboards, and no curtains covered the lone window set high on the wall opposite the door to the front room. Instead of a wardrobe, a half a dozen pegs protruded from the wall beside the door. A chamber pot had been set in the corner, but no screen provided privacy to the room's occupants.
Ned shut the door and set Alice down on one of the chairs with the warning, "You keep quiet or I'll stuff a rag in yer mouth.”
Julia scrambled to her feet. "Renard cannot know of your actions. He would never approve of this.”
Ned and Tom exchanged a look then both burst out laughing. "I told you she never had a clue,” Ned told him. "Stupid bitch thought she was helpin' poor unfortunates like her.” He said the last words with a sarcastic falsetto.
"What do you mean?" Julia recognized the mockery, and his words had a sinister truth at their core.
Ned faced her with a nasty grin. "Why, that his Lordship would approve of this and a great deal more. Stupid woman, your cousin has been selling women and secrets for years.”
CHAPTER 15
Tristan checked Alice and Julia's rooms before he went to his own. As he feared, their few personal items remained behind. Someone had directed their hasty retreat and Julia had not bothered with their things. He, on the other hand, needed to be prepared for whatever he found whenever he tracked them down. It would do him no good to rush into a situation that he couldn’t control and he must gather his wits before he chased after them.
In his room, he sloshed water into a basin and washed the blood from the base of his skull, then he pulled out the bag he'd unpacked days before and filled it with the necessities for another trip across country. Portsmouth had plenty of brothels, but since Goodwin’s family was known in town, he thought London the more likely destination. At least this time Tristan was heading into territory he knew well.
His head ached and his vision had not fully cleared, but if he hurried, he might be able to catch them before they disappeared into the warren of alleys known as Seven Dials, or worse, the docks. Grimly, he added a change of clothes for both Julia and Alice. If he didn’t find them quickly, he would need to provide them with clothes. Brothel owners often stripped their victims so they could not escape.
He stopped long enough to write a note to Ravencliffe reporting his ambush and new suspicions. He would arrive in London before the courier picked up the message, but Tristan did not plan to stop at the Foreign Office until he had rescued the child a second time. And Julia? His head pounded and his gut tightened when he thought of her. That would depend on what he found.
His blurred vision and aching head protested any attempt to urge his horse at a canter, let alone a gallop, which meant he traveled only a little faster than a coach. As he rode, the temperature dropped and the threat of rain grew until it was soggy reality. Though not a downpour, the steady fall only made focusing on the road ahead an exercise in concentration that made his head ache even more.
Unfortunately, the pace didn’t prevent his thoughts from dancing around Julia's role in the situation. The woman plagued him. Her actions and reactions appeared natural and honest, yet he couldn’t be sure he’d not been deceived. Cousin or not, it might have been easy for her to take advantage of the earl’s illness. She had spent time in London—long enough to know his staff, though not to complete her Season. Again, was she complicit or coerced in this scheme?
If she was complicit, he’d been a blind fool to trust her.
During his childhood, he’d witnessed many a procuress enticing the innocent into ruin through deceptively kind words and apparent assistance. Those naive young women who accepted aid were forced to work off their debts for food and lodging in the streets and brothels all over London. Few lived long.
Yet he could not bring himself to accept that Julia aided the traitors who threatened Lord Goodwin in order to sell secrets to the French. A procuress would not have blushed at standing bare naked in a public house, but Julia clearly blushed at the slightest provocation. A reaction he realized frustrated her and made her blush all the more.
Who was behind this? Would Julia face the same fate as Alice once she discovered the truth? How long before they were sold to the highest bidder? That thought made him kick his horse into a faster pace. He would not allow either of them to be so despicably used. He didn’t have much time, but at least virgin sales did not take place until word circulated to those who would pay well for the chance to deflower an innocent.
He reached the city proper but the crowds of vehicles and late night darkness made it impossible to trace their progress through simple observation. Still hoping to locate them, he directed his horse into Seven Dials and to his childhood friend's establishment. Maisie took only women who had already entered the life, but she knew all too well who preyed on children and the naive. Through her, he would find out when and where any auction would take place.
As he made his way through the narrow streets, he breathed in the rank odors that hung like a fog of desperation in the air. The lingering whiff of burnt onions mingled with the sour smell of unwashed bodies, and poverty gave proof that some things did not change. In the darkening streets he did not need the sparse lantern light to guide him. He needed only to follow his nose. The familiar smells clung like grime to his memories of life before his father removed him to the pleasure of baths, clean clothes, plentiful food, and hope.
"Here, gov, you lookin' for a bit o'fun?"
Tristan glanced at the flaxen-haired girl in the bright red silk dress who spoke. He took in the softly rounded blossoming body, freckled cheeks, painted lips, and decided she couldn't be much older than Rowena, his thirteen-year-old half-sister. Too aware of the blunt facts of life to be shocked at her youth—child prostitution was, after all, what he was here to save Alice from—he pulled a coin from his coat pocket. "Not today, luv, but here's a shilling for your supper. Tell your protector I was well satisfied.”
The girl caught the coin deftly, then looked up, her eyes revealing wary gratitude. "You know Davie?"
"No, just his type.” With that, he tipped his hat and continued down the street.
Maisie's place was well lit and music spilled into the air whenever the door opened to let in a customer. The painted exterior of the three-story building, set between a gambling hell to the left and a dilapidated rooming house on the right, spoke of Maisie's determination to make the best of a life for which she'd had no choice.
Moments later Maisie, herself, enfolded him in a hug of greeting.
"Tristan! Lord love a duck! What brings you here? I know you've never needed to pay for female attention.”
"It's good to see you, too.” Tristan hugged her back and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before stepping back. "You look well.”
Maisie's copper-red hair and hazel eyes gave her a singular beauty marred only by the long, slightly puckered scar that ran from her left eye to the corner of her mouth. The scar pulled the corner of her mouth into a perpetual half smile that she claimed shifted business dealings in her favor. Competitors never quite knew if she was serious in their dealings, but the fact that she had survived her knife-wielding assailant made others wary.
Maisie studied him. "You've been traveling hard,” she said as she took his hand and led him to her rooms at the back of the house. "I'll pour you a brandy and you can tell me why you really came.”
As soon as he explained the situation, Maisie called two of her own house guards to go around the city and listen for wo
rd of any new arrivals. Tristan stood to go with them, but a dizzy spell caused him to stagger back into the chair when he rose. Maisie declared he looked like a drowned rat who needed food and rest and insisted he let her men investigate for him.
Two hours later, the men returned, and Tristan left Maisie's house with the assurance that Alice was not yet at any of the child brothels in the city. Nor had a woman fitting Julia's description appeared with a child in tow. He now knew the names and locations of the establishments that traded in children, and Maisie had promised to send him word if any house announced a special event.
The mist still fell, but it served to clear the city fog and made his progress to his rooms in St. James Street easier. Once there, he sent an update on the situation to Ravencliffe before allowing himself a few hours of sleep. Come daylight he would expand his queries throughout the city and pray he found them. The city had far too many places to hide.
JULIA GAPED AT NED, unable to take in his shocking announcement. Renard sold women and secrets? Impossible! “I don’t believe you,” she told him.
“Don’t matter what you believe, m’dear,” Ned told her. “It don’t change the truth.” He jerked his head toward Julia and instructed Tom, “Tie her up while I take care of this ‘un.” He pulled a pair of cord lengths from his coat pocket and tied Alice’s hands together. Alice made no sound, but her small body trembled and her gaze darted between the two men in obvious fear.
Julia gaped at Ned in horror, then realized Tom meant to follow Ned’s instructions. She quickly dodged when he attempted to grab her. Desperate, she lunged to the side and rushed to the door, but Tom caught her before she could turn the handle.
“Oh, no, ye’ don’t.” He grunted when Julia elbowed him in the stomach, but hung on to her arm, then secured the other one. He evaded her attempt to kick him and shoved her against the wall, pinning her so she was pressed into the corner and unable to do more damage.
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