“Bran will find Sonali first,” she insisted. “She is his only child.”
“Is she now?” Jamot turned to face her again. “Have you ever noticed how the girl possesses no Anglo features?”
“Bran has lighter hair,” she observed. “Darker coloring often takes precedence in children.”
“Did your duke tell you what happened to Ashmita?”
Velvet edged away from him, not liking the turn of the conversation. “He said Ashmita was illused by someone, and he rescued her and took her to a safe place.”
Jamot snorted. “The English protect their women too much. They give you no credit for being strong physically and emotionally. Illused is too mild for what happened to Ashmita. Our leader termed her no better than a whore after his cousin had raped her. Mir tied her to a bed and charged each man who wanted her a rupee. For a fortnight, our tribal men visited her over and over, leaving their seed in her belly. That was before your duke and his friends freed her.”
“Were you one of those men?” Velvet did not want to ask, but she could not stifle the words.
“I had wanted Ashmita–wanted my seed to be her children, but I could not go to her tied in that tent. It was no longer Ashmita; it was an unknown woman crying in pain and disgrace.” His tone spoke of a great loss.
“Why did you not stop what happened to her?” she accused.
His ironic laughter filled the room. “You do not understand men’s ways. We are like lions–we choose a leader, and we obey him without question. Shaheed Mir is my lion king.”
“You chose an allegiance to a man who would destroy the woman you wanted? You are correct: I do not understand men’s ways.”
He suddenly turned to go. Before he did he sat a chamber pot in the nearby corner. “I will leave you for now. I hope to have word soon of whether Thornhill chooses you or Sonali. If he comes for you and brings the jewel, you will go free. If he chooses the child...well, if I am to lose Mir’s favor, then I will take my pleasure in you, my Dear. Fowler took Ashmita as his own so it seems only fair. Do you suppose the duke will still want you once I have used your body, and you are no longer an innocent?” At the door, he paused to emphasize his point. “If Fowler saves Sonali, you may curse him aloud as I enter your body. As you give yourself to me.”
“You may take of what you speak, but I will never give myself to you!”
*
Yardley recognized both Fowler’s and Lexford’s horses in the stable at The Golden Apple. At least, he had found them. “Let me check on my friends while you assist your nieces,” he told Ashton, noting the carriage just pulling into the land leading to the inn. As he stepped into the dimly lit open room, Wellston spied the viscount heading toward the staircase. “Lexford!” he called.
“Yardley!” came the response. “What are you doing here?” Lexford came forward to greet him.
“Miss Cashé remembered that her uncle and twin were in Manchester. Actually, Baron Ashton, their uncle, is a former Realm member. We followed you in hopes that we might be of some service.” Wellston shared quietly.
“Miss Cashé is here?” Lexford looked over his friend’s shoulder expecting to see the woman.
Wellston thought how the viscount could have her. Cashémere Aldridge held no sway over him. “The baron assists his nieces.”
“Thornhill is in the private dining room. Go on in. I will meet the baron.”
“And Miss Cashé’s twin?” Wellston remarked with amusement.
“Do they truly favor each other?”
“Let us just say, you will need to be aware to whom you address your attentions.” Laughing at the expression on Lexford’s face, Wellston strolled away to find Brantley Fowler.
*
Kerrington held his breath as he inched forward. Simms had warned him of the broken third step, and he double stepped it so as to not make any noise. The open door ahead obviously led to the kitchen. From the stairway, as he edged closer, he could see a shadow crisscrossing the room. Moving as slowly as possible, Worthing peered around the doorframe to see Talpur loading a tray, likely to serve to Sonali. The man took a long drink of ale, which showed how westernized Talpur had become, a fact Lord Worthing filed away for future use.
Realizing he had only minutes to find Sonali before his compatriots attacked Talpur’s guards, Kerrington slid past the opening when the Baloch stood with his back to the door. Their information had appeared correct: Talpur remained in the house alone. Advancing more quickly, Kerrington climbed the steps carefully avoiding the centerboards, which invariably creaked in the best of cases. He warily opened the door leading to the sleeping quarters. The light click of the knob turning in place sounded loud to him, but he knew it was quiet in the house.
He slid through the opening and hurriedly checked the rooms leading to Bran’s former quarters. Then he noticed the key displayed prominently in the lock of Sonali’s old room. Turning the key, Kerrington edged the door open only an inch or two, and then he saw her, huddled on the bed–eyes wide–and a chin defiantly raised. As he shoved the opening wider, Sonali’s eyes filled with tears as it registered that he stood before her.
“Uncle James,” she squealed.
“Shush,” he whispered as he brought his finger to his lips to silence her. “Come, Darling.” He motioned to her.
She scurried to his side. “Papa?” she asked as she took his hand.
“They have taken your Cousin Velvet also,” he quickly explained Bran’s absence. “Your Papa is so strong, I sent him to help his cousin, but I am here and so is Uncle Carter.”
She looked disappointed, but Sonali held tight to his hand as he led her toward the servants’ stairway. “You must be quiet, Poppet, and step light on the stairs.”
“Yes, Uncle James.” Sonali caught tighter to his hand and wrist.
Slowly, they slipped into the narrow passage. Kerrington kept himself between her and the potential danger of Talpur in the kitchen. As they neared the open portal, he spied on Talpur through the space between the door and the frame–along the hinges. Seeing the man pick up a knife to slice the bread, Kerrington scooped Sonali into his arms and fleetingly hide her from view as he began their escape. The sound of Talpur’s approach forced him to move faster than he wanted, and when his foot hit the broken step, Kerrington knew Talpur would follow.
*
Carter Lowery, Thomas Whittington, and Lucien Simms waited the required thirty minutes to give Kerrington time to traverse the tunnel. They had counted ten men surrounding the house, each carrying a handgun. Simms thought they all were local thugs–men out of work and needing whatever funds they could find to buy their next drink. This fact played into their hands; they would not fight skilled assassins.
When Lowery caught the first guard in a strangle hold from behind, the man resisted for only a few seconds before he succumbed to the force across his windpipe and collapsed. Lowery eased the man to the ground and took the single shot 60 before moving on to the next sentry.
He and Whittington easily disabled a pair near the back door. A well-lodged upper cut sent one pudgy fellow onto his backside before Whittington placed a booted kick into the man’s chest, cracking ribs and incapacitating his opponent. He turned to plant a straight punch to the midriff of the man with whom Lowery tussled.
“What be ye doin’ ‘round here?” A guard asked Lucien Simms.
Simms craned his neck as if to look in a nearby window. “Nothing really. I just saw some people around Mr. Fowler’s house, and I thought I should check on it. Is Fowler at home?”
“That be none of ye business. I ‘pect ye should find yer way home.”
“Of course.” Yet, before the man knew what was happening, Simms used the walking staff he carried, very much as those who have studied the ancient Chinese fighting arts, to bring the man first to his knees with an accurate strike to the groin and a second one to the back of the neck, sending the guard sprawling face down in the dirt.
With that obvious move, the remain
ing guards charged. Lucien Simms swung his staff with deadly accuracy while Whittington and Lowery both skilled in hand-to-hand combat punched and jabbed their way through the battle to take over the house.
*
Talpur heard the commotion outside the house and then the steps creaked, and he knew the Realm brought their attack. Those he hired to protect the house could not hold out for long against the fighting expertise of Fowler and his compatriots. He knew their cunning well. He had suffered the ultimate degradation: He had tried to stop Fowler’s initial attempt to rescue the girl known as Ashmita. It had been he who the duke struck with an upper cut, sending Talpur reeling with a broken nose. Fowler had left him sprawled on the tent’s floor. Angry at Talpur’s inability to thwart the efforts “of the Anglo,” Mir had Talpur tied to the whipping posts and had delivered ten strikes himself. Talpur still carried the scars across his back.
Talpur had known Ashmita well. He had taken his pleasure in her five times over that fortnight. Five rupees to relieve a young man’s hunger. More mature now, he understood women’s ways and preferred it when a woman came willingly to his bed. Of course, these English women, the ones he had met since coming to this frigid countryside, had preferred their sallow-faced “gentlemen” to his skin, which was forever darkened by the sun. He often felt Jamot’s rancor in dealing with the Realm and with the girl Ashmita. He had not originally known–had not realized that the always-private Jamot had planned to offer the girl honor. Jamot’s knowledge of Talpur’s violation of the female had often affected their ability to work efficiently together. “Leave me, you son of the Devil!” he had often heard his fellow countryman say in a drunken rage. Thus, they had planned separately to retrieve the emerald. Talpur had thought it best to take Fowler’s daughter while Jamot thought they might best achieve their mission if they took the woman the duke reportedly affected.
As he pulled his weapons in preparation of giving chase, he wondered if Jamot’s refusal to go near the child had anything to do with the knowledge that the girl belonged to Ashmita and that the child was just as likely to have been fathered by one of their tribesmen as she was by Fowler. “Let us see what Fate brings us.” Entering the darkened stairway, Talpur looked upward first, expecting to see Fowler rushing at him, but a quick glance downward told him his enemy hid in the cellar. Moving quickly, but stealthily, he chased a shadow.
James Kerrington rushed through the maze of rooms, carrying Sonali close to him. “Listen, Poppet,” he ordered as he turned darkened corners, heading toward the tunnel, “there is a secret passage up ahead–how I got into the house; but it is dark.” He used his shoulder to open one of the storage room doors. “I need for you to be brave and to go through the passage while I stop the man chasing us.”
He sat her down before the shelving. “I am afraid,” Sonali hugged him tighter.
“There is nothing of which to be frightened, Poppet–only darkness.” He handed her the shuttered lantern he had left by the hidden door. “You will take the lantern. The passage will bring you into the woods. Do not leave the opening until either Uncle Carter or I come for you. It will take us a few minutes to rid your Papa’s house of these bad men, but we will come.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You will be my knight, Uncle James.” Her lip trembled.
“Come, Sweet One.” He kissed her cheek. “You can slay your own dragons, Darling. You are my brave girl–just like your Aunt Ella.” Hearing Talpur’s approach, Kerrington shoved her through the opening. “Hurry, Sonali. I must know you are safe.” As she stared at him, her body physically shaking with fear, Kerrington frantically motioned her to move before he literally closed the door in her angelic face. He stepped away from the shelves not wanting to betray the hidden passage and waited for Talpur to find him.
Seconds later, the Baloch entered the open door. “So, Fowler did not come?” He eyeballed Kerrington suspiciously. “Or is the duke one of those outside?”
Kerrington refused to answer; he just edged sideways along the wall towards the only opening. Other than the smugglers’ passageway, the doorway, which Rahmut Talpur filled very effectively with his massive body, was the only way out.
Talpur’s eyes followed Kerrington’s progress, but he did not move. He simply waited for the fight to begin. “You are Kerrington, the one they call the Captain?” An amused smile turned up the corners of Talpur’s lips. “We have met before.”
Kerrington’s mind remained on Sonali’s escape and the upcoming confrontation, but Talpur’s words brought him to the moment. Then his body recognized the man blocking his way. “You attacked my wife in Hyde Park. You followed us in the museum.”
Talpur simply inclined his head at the truth of Lord Worthing’s words. “Actually I was the one who attempted to stop the duke in my tribal tent, but it was I in the park also. We would have been successful if not for your efforts on the lady’s behalf and for the bungling of the late baronet.”
Worthing saw the amusement play across the man’s face–recognized the smugness; and it sat his blood boiling. Inflamed, he moved quickly to exact his revenge. Talpur’s words brought his ire. The man had attempted to hurt Ella, and the Baloch would pay the price. In such a confined space neither a gun nor a sword would suffice, so Kerrington pulled the dagger from his boot as he advanced. Lunging forward he caught Talpur’s arm with his first strike. Now, they circled each other–arms akimbo, each holding his weapon ready for an attack.
Used to close battles, Kerrington anticipated Talpur’s next move and side stepped the feint, sending the Baloch stumbling forward to maintain his balance. Meanwhile, Worthing spun to catch Talpur from behind, his left arm across the man’s throat, but before he could get his own footing, his enemy flipped Kerrington over his back, sending the viscount slamming into the wall and stunning him. A punch to his kidneys brought Worthing to his knees and gulping for air.
Over his own labored breathing, Kerrington now heard the Baloch pull his sword, and he calculated his enemy’s move. As if suspended in slow motion, Worthing sensed the man lift the weapon, knew when Talpur pulled his arm back to maximize his power, and felt the upcoming blow to the back of his neck. Reacting instinctively, Kerrington turned at the last second, just as Talpur posed above him. Thrusting upward, the viscount sent his dagger deep into his adversary’s stomach. As the pain spread across the Baloch’s face, Worthing pushed himself to his feet, jerking upward on his weapon, ripping the wound to open it completely. “That is for Ella,” he hissed, giving the dirk one more forceful twist. “And that is for Sonali.”
Talpur’s eyes darkened in agony, and he dropped the sword. Kerrington heard it clang against the smooth stone, as he sank to his own knees. His opponent lay on his back; arms and legs spread wide, Worthing’s stylet precariously perpendicular, protruding from his enemy’s abdomen.
“Worthing!” he heard Lowery’s voice as his friend rushed down the steps.
Whittington’s voice joined Lowery’s, “James! Where are you?” Footsteps came nearer.
“Here!” he rasped out.
Both men hit the door with equal anxiety, but it was Whittington at his side. “Please tell me you are well,” he pleaded.
Kerrington nodded his head, but did not move. “I think he broke my ribs,” he confided. “My lower back is likely very bruised.”
“He is dead.” Lowery joined the two men. “Where is Sonali?”
Kerrington began to crawl toward the shelving. “I put her in the tunnel.”
“I will go,” Whittington moved the bracketed wood aside.
“No,” Kerrington reached for his brother. “I told her to hide in the tunnel...until Uncle Carter or I...came for her.”
Lowery motioned to Kerrington. “Help him upstairs. Send Simms for a physician. I will find Sonali.” He slid in the opening, leaving it wide to keep what light he could. Taking a small candle from an inner pocket, he struck a flint to light it, before pushing forward.
Sonali had clawed at the door, begging her
Uncle James to permit her return to the house, but she knew he would not to do so no matter how much she pleaded. Uncle James had closed the door to keep the bad man from her. Her father’s friend would protect her with his life. Just like the knights in the stories she had shared with Cousin Velvet. Taking the lantern, she turned to actually look at her surroundings. Holding the lantern as high as she could, she could see trickles of water running down the wall, but the passage appeared safe. “Uncle James came in this way,” she murmured. As she took her first tentative steps, Sonali suddenly realized how cold the air seemed. Her initial thought was of a grave, but she made herself not think of ghosts or goblins; instead, she thought this would be her first adventure. Like Scheherazade she would use her brains to get away from danger.
Meanwhile, Lowery worked his way through the passage. He could hear the faint sound of her movement somewhere ahead of him, but the way the sound echoed off the walls, he could not tell how far ahead Sonali might be. He would love to stand full upright and to run after her, but this was not a safe passage. He must proceed quickly; however, Lowery also must exercise caution. According to Kerrington, she had the lantern, and Carter could see no reflection of the light so he kept moving. The sound was too faint to know any more than the fact that Sonali was there. Was doing what Kerrington had told her to do. Carter thought about how frightened she must be, and he hurried his approach even more.
Sonali did not run, but she did walk as fast as she could. Coming to the collapsed wall, she sat the lantern down to scamper over the sharp rocks, but then she heard the footsteps coming from the direction of the house. “Uncle James,” she whispered, thinking to turn back, but the thoughts of the man who had brought her here, locked in a wooden box, overrode her hopes. What if he hurt Uncle James and is coming for me? Leaving the lantern behind, Sonali ran for the tunnel’s end. Uncle Carter would be looking for her if Uncle James were hurt. Tales of ghosts and goblins came in the form of every dark shadow. No longer walking, she ran for her life.
Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet Page 31