“Wait a minute, Pete. So the bad man was actually watching Miss Rose, not me.”
“Would seem so, yer Grace.”
“Were you able to find out anything else?”
“The second bad man flipped him a coin and he went off so I figured he wasn't going to be of much more use so I followed the second chap as he left their meeting. I hope that was all right, yer Grace.”
“I am quite certain you made the right choice, Pete. Where did the second man go?”
“He was a fair bit harder to keep a track of since the first thing he went and did was to climb into a hack but I was able to grab onto the back just as it took off so I managed just fine, yer Grace.”
“Would you be able to show me where the places were that you have been?”
“I'm fair and certain that I could, yer Grace. But I knows for sure where we was when the hack stopped so I don't have to show you. The chap runs up the stairs to a fairly posh house and goes in. I waits and waits and not much happened but I did ask one of the kids what were running around who lived in that there house. They says it's Sir Jason Broderick, yer Grace. You would know where he lives, right?”
“Yes, thank you, Pete. I do know where that is. And that just confirms what I already knew about Broderick. But I might need you to help me find the men you saw. They might be in a position to help us find the lady.”
“The lady? Has something happened to yer friend, yer Grace?”
“Yes, Pete, I guess I failed to tell you that bit. We believe that Broderick has abducted her. And we need to find her as quickly as possible. She might be in grave danger.”
At this point the butler stepped in and said what he knew. Alex was finished dressing and Wesley was waiting impatiently to know what was going on. The two set off in search of Rose.
Chapter Nineteen
Rose was beginning to despise this particular adventure. She had been so excited about sharing in the intrigue, trying to figure out what Broderick was up to. Now that she had saved Alex she felt as though she had gotten herself in way too deep. She could feel the warm trickle of blood as she struggled once more against the ropes binding her wrists.
The loud snores of the culprit guarding her were annoying and yet reassuring. Rose was frustrated by the passage of time. She had hoped to have freed herself before daybreak so that she could escape and make her way home before too many were abroad. It would not do to be seen arriving home in her gown from the night before, especially not looking the worse for wear as she surely did. But it would matter very little if she could not get herself free. She had very little confidence in Broderick's desire to keep her alive.
Endeavoring to reassure herself she reminded herself that if he had wanted her dead he could have just done it the evening before. Why bother going to the trouble of tying her up and having her guarded if he planned on killing her. Of course, there were fates worse than death, her wayward imaginings reminded her unnecessarily. Her struggles resumed to free herself of the bonds. Why did he have to tie the ropes so tight? she wondered wretchedly, trying to decide if they had budged at all or if it was just her wishful thinking. Or maybe I have just worn off a layer of my skin with my struggles and that is why it suddenly feels a little looser.
A giant yawn surprised her as she continued to twist and tug. She had been too terrified to sleep at all during the night, besides the discomfort of her position. A faint sound in the distance stilled her actions and she tensed in anticipation. The footsteps drew closer.
“Squint, you lazy lout, what good are you to me if you are going to sleep on the job? The girl could have gotten away,” Broderick bellowed, waking the guard with a hard kick to his midsection.
Rose winced in sympathetic reaction, flinching in fear as he approached her before she could quell the telling motion. Broderick grinned at her reaction, making her stomach turn. She raised her chin defiantly.
She sat very still as the knight approached her, keeping her eyes trained on his every move, cursing her inability to escape before his return.
Broderick circled her, most likely just to ratchet up her fear another notch. He chuckled over her injured wrists. “I see you did not sit as demurely as you would like me to think through the night, did you? That must not feel too good,” he observed dispassionately. “Perhaps you shall get an infection and die. It would save me a great deal of trouble.”
“I do not aim to be that helpful, my lord,” Rose answered sweetly, causing her captor to laugh once more.
“I am glad to see my knots held up. I shan't be tarrying here, I merely wished to ensure the guttersnipes had not made off with you. There is some cheese, bread, and ale for you if you would like to break your fast.”
Rose thought of defiantly rejecting his offering but thought better of it as she heard her stomach growl indelicately. Lifting her chin proudly she politely thanked him before asking, “How am I to eat with my hands bound in such a manner?”
Sir Broderick grumbled under his breath something unfit for a lady's ears but stepped forward to untie her. She almost wept from relief as she brought her arms back to their natural position. She had to struggle to maintain her composure when she caught sight of her mangled hands, though. Biting the inside of her cheek, she was exceedingly proud of herself when she detected that her lips did not even quiver.
She reached forward and grasped the flask he was holding out to her and took a slow draft. The cool slide of the liquid as it went down her parched throat was such a relief and she easily ignored the fact that she didn't even like ale. At the moment it tasted like the sweetest nectar. She took another slow swallow, savoring the moisture and refreshment. Putting the flask down, she slowly reached for the chunk of cheese he had laid out for her, delicately taking a bite.
Huffing with disgust Broderick spoke up. “I do not have time to wait for you to meander your way through a meal. I have places to go. I will have to tie you back up before I leave.”
Rose could not prevent the protest that moaned through her lips. “No, please, I beg of you. I really am terribly hungry.”
“But you're taking too long, Miss.”
“Why don't you jest tie her hands in front of 'er, milord,” suggested Squint, speaking for the first time since the knight's arrival.
Rose had nearly forgotten he was there, she had been so focused on the food her captor had brought. She eyed him askance. She could barely tolerate the thought of being tied up again, but if her hands were in front of her she thought she had a much better chance of being able to escape. She hoped her face did not reveal how excited she was at the knave's suggestion.
She could feel Broderick's eyes upon her and avoided making eye contact with him. He stood there studying her for a few heartbeats. Rose finally released the breath she had been holding when he spoke.
“As much as it would be a relief to have you off my hands as quickly as possible, I do not want you dying of blood loss before your possible usefulness is at an end. If you rip some strips off your gown, you can wrap your wrists with the cloth before I tie your hands back up.”
Rose could hear the grudging reluctance in his voice and hastened to follow his suggestion, although she was unsure if she would be able to do so with her hands in their weakened state. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as she reached down toward her skirts she made every effort not to lift them above her ankles as she struggled to find a suitable section, thankful for the fullness of the style she had chosen to wear. Realizing her petticoats would be made of softer, more absorbent material, she thought to start with that. Blessedly it did not take her overly long to tug two chunks of fabric from her underthings. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks that her maid always insisted that she wear multiple layers.
She quickly wrapped the fabric around the worst of her wounds, hoping that she was not doing them more harm than good. It certainly couldn't be any worse to have the fabric protecting her flesh, as she anticipated struggling against the ropes once again as soon as Sir Broderick le
ft and Squint took his eyes off her. Taking a deep breath against the anticipated pain, she offered her hands to her captor.
Rose wondered if she was being too compliant when Broderick shot her a suspicious scowl. She strove for nonchalance. With a shrug she said, “I am hungry. I would like to get back to my meal.”
Broderick grinned and Rose cringed inside at the evil that she saw in his eyes but she refrained from further comment. He made short work of tying her hands back together. Rose bit her lip not to cry out, relieved that she still had movement.
Before long, Broderick was gone after a brief exchange with Squint and an admonishment to Rose to “behave.” Rose smiled weakly at Squint and went back to her meal, concentrating on chewing slowly and imagining that she was elsewhere.
She had been wondering how her parents were handling her disappearance. Rose was surprised but grateful that Broderick seemed to have forgotten that he had wanted her to write a note telling her parents that she had run off with a seaman. She had been trying to come up with some sort of message that would tell her parents where she was but that Broderick would not be able to see through. She had not yet been able to come up with anything that made much sense. Thinking about her family made the bread feel like sawdust in her mouth, so she thought of Alex instead.
Despite the feud, thinking about the duke helped to steady her nerves and inspired her with hope. She allowed herself to imagine the scold he would give her for being so foolish as to allow herself to get into this predicament. Her imaginings were so real to her that she almost laughed out loud as the scene played itself out in her head. Rose shook her head at herself. Mayhap this ordeal is making me mad. I shall be a candidate for Bedlam before this is through, she mocked herself.
But the daydream had done the trick, she had fortified herself with the simple meal Broderick had provided and her nerves were fortified too. She was resolved once more to get herself out of this mess. Steeling her backbone, she thought to herself, If I survive this, mayhap I shall follow Mary's advice and see about brokering peace between the Wrenthams and Smythes. She smiled slightly as she tested the strength of the latest knots.
Squint had gulped down the provisions Broderick had left for him and settled himself back into his chair. Despite the knight's violence and threats, he looked as though he were preparing himself for another nap. Rose held herself very still and did not utter a peep, hoping he would soon be fast asleep. Before too long his reassuring snorts and snores were filling the air and she got back to work on freeing herself. As she struggled, she wondered absently what time it was.
****
Alex was cursing the time that was passing. The sun was fully up in the sky and the city was bustling with activity. He had not been able to discover the whereabouts of Broderick or his captive. He was ready to go and confront the man himself.
“That will not be at all useful, Your Grace,” Lord Smythe was trying to soothe him. “If we lay down all our cards we will lose any advantage we might have. As long as he thinks we don't know anything, we have the element of surprise on our side. If we confront him, he will merely deny it and be all the more careful. We could even endanger Rosamund by doing so. I am hoping that he will have her guarded somewhere and is feeding her. If he feels endangered, at best he will abandon her, at worst he might kill her. I think we should keep searching as quietly as possible.”
“But this infernal delay is driving me mad,” the duke declared.
“I cannot conceive of why this is of concern to you, Your Grace,” Lady Smythe complained. Catching her husband's censorious glance she interjected, “Not that I am complaining about your help, of course, Your Grace, I am merely surprised that you would seem to be so invested in it.”
Alex was feeling frantic for Rose's return, but was unwilling to explain himself to her mother. He knew the answer he was about to give was weak, but he gave it anyway. “I am involved, my lady, and I hate feeling thwarted.”
It seemed to be a sentiment all in the room could relate to, as no one dismissed it and most nodded their head.
Lady Elizabeth had come by to see if there was any word. Since there was no good news and very little she could do to help, she stood to take her leave. “My dear Lady Smythe, I do not wish to be a burden for you to entertain at this time so I shall leave you for now. Please know that I am ever ready to be of any assistance to you.”
“Thank you, my lady. We sincerely appreciate that. Hopefully we shan't need to, but we will call upon you if needed. And I promise you we shall send word as soon as we know anything.”
The assembled gentlemen all bowed to her as she left but had little to say. Lord Dunbar escorted her from the room.
Lady Smythe had resumed her seat and was absently wringing her hands. “This wretched waiting is what makes it so awful, my lord. Why have we heard nothing? Do not most abductors make demands of some sort so that you can pay a ransom and be done with it?”
“Can you not find something to occupy yourself with, my dear? I do not think it is healthful for you to sit here worrying yourself into a state,” Lord Smythe was in no position to comfort his wife as he too was nearly beside himself with worry.
“No, I cannot occupy myself with something, my lord. What would you have me do? Take up my needlework?” she laughed mirthlessly.
“Perhaps you could go and make some calls, act as though naught is amiss, lest anyone wonder what has become of her.”
“There is absolutely no way my acting skills could stretch that far, my lord, I can assure you. But you do raise a good point. What are we to do if we cannot recover her shortly? There will be talk and she shall be ruined.”
“We shall have to invent a story. Maybe you really should go and call on someone who gossips. Come up with a story that she has gone to the country to visit a friend or a relative and spread it about.”
“Nobody would believe that a debutante is going to leave Town at the height of the Season, my lord,” Lady Smythe declared, panicking, becoming more shrill the longer she spoke. “My darling daughter is going to be ruined through no fault of her own. And then where will we be?”
Alex could not bear the older woman's distress. “Have no fear, my lady. Rosie will never be ruined. I shall marry her and restore her to Society. No one would dare to whisper about the Duchess of Wrentham.”
Stunned silence descended upon the room for a moment before Lady Smythe burst out with inflammatory words. “I would rather she be ruined than be a Wrentham,” she spat. “Your family shall not steal another child from me.”
“My lady, please, how can you speak thus?” chastised Lord Dunbar disbelieving the words he was hearing.
“The previous Duke of Wrentham was responsible for the death of my firstborn, I will not let the current duke get his hands on my daughter,” Lady Smythe looked like a vengeful angel with her pale skin and her dove gray gown flowing as she paced in her wrath.
“But how could the Duke of Wrentham have had anything to do with your son's death? He was so happy to be off to the war. It had nothing to do with Wrentham.”
Lady Smythe gazed at Wesley, her expression arrested. “What could you possibly know about the matter?” she demanded.
“I was there. I was in the same regiment as both your son and Wrentham's brother.” Wesley looked between the Smythes and Alex, amazed that they were all gazing at him searchingly. “Surely you all realize how much they both wanted to be there.”
“My son never said anything about enlisting. He must have just gone because he felt such a loyalty to his friend. The last duke was such a wretch, no doubt his son thought the only avenue of escape was to enlist. My dear boy had to go too.” Lady Smythe muffled her sob with the handkerchief she hastily held to her face.
Gently, Dunbar sat next to her and took her other hand. “I am loath to contradict you, my lady, but I have to tell you that both the boys joined up without telling each other. They both thought the other ought not to, but they each wanted to do so quite urgently. They were
so happy to discover they were both there independently and despite the trials and privations of being in the army's camp, they both thought it almost a lark right to the very end. They were so eager for an adventure.”
“But why would my dear son want to join up? And why would he not tell us that he wished to do so?” Lady Smythe was clearly bewildered.
“I cannot rightly say why he did not tell you. I do know that Luke thought you would be proud of him for doing what he thought as his duty to his country. He felt that it would put him in better stead to follow in his father's footsteps as a diplomat if he fully understood what they were battling over. It seemed as though he felt very strongly on the matter, but he did not wish Wrentham's brother to know because your son felt that it was Maxwell's duty as heir to a dukedom to remain at home, and Luke did not want to make his friend feel divided in his loyalties.” Turning to Alex, Wesley continued his tale. “On the other hand, your brother really did wish fervently to get away from home. He felt terrible for leaving you behind and he did not wish to tell either you or Luke that he was going for fear that you would wish to accompany him. Someone had to stay home and be the responsible heir,” Dunbar explained with a lopsided grin.
There was a pause as everyone absorbed the viscount's words, but then Alex prodded for more information. “But you say they were happy?”
“Oh yes, Your Grace, very much so. Both of them were delighted when they discovered that each of them was there without any prompting from the other. They acted like boys. In a way I do not think either of them realized the gravity of the situation, nor do I think they thought there was any possibility of them getting injured, let alone killed. But they most definitely were happy. They took to the regiment life like naturals. They acted as I would imagine they did when they were away at school. It was often hard to believe that they were men and soldiers, not the schoolboys they resembled.”
Lady Smythe let out a watery chuckle as Wesley's tale wound down. “They always were such rascals when they were getting into mischief together.”
The Duke Conspiracy Page 27