And Angel suspected her husband of grossly exaggerating. “I believe you are trying to persuade me that we should stay home.”
He sighed. “I wish we could, but my father is right.”
Angel noted happily that Lucian now referred to Wrexham as his father.
That night as Lucian guided Angel downstairs to join his father who was waiting for them in the hall, the knocker banged.
Reeves opened the door, revealing Joseph Pardy standing there. Ignoring the butler, Pardy called to Lucian, “Must see you at once, m’lord. It cannot wait.”
Lucian could think of only one reason for Pardy’s insistence upon seeing him immediately. He had found Maude.
“This is urgent,” Lucian said, turning to his father, “Will you take Angel to Sir Percival’s? I will join you there as soon as I can.”
“It would be better if you and Angel arrived together.”
“I know, but I cannot help it.”
Angel said, “I would rather remain here with you.”
“No,” Lucian said, “go with my father. I promise you that I will be no more than an hour behind you.”
He turned to Reeves. “Order up my carriage and have it waiting for me.”
Lucian escorted his wife and father to the door, then led Pardy into his library. “Have you located Maude?”
“Aye.”
Lucian gestured for Pardy to take a seat, then took a large upholstered chair opposite him. “What were you able to learn from her?”
“She was an easy one to crack,” Pardy said gleefully, displaying his crooked teeth, “thanks to Rupert Crowe— and me excellent timing.”
Lucian frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Crowe’s wot finally led me to ‘er. ‘Ad ‘er ‘idden in a cottage at Blackheath. Paid ‘er a visit there today, ‘e did.” Pardy grinned. “Nothing quiet about their meetin’. Maude likes to toss the crockery when she’s angry, and ‘er was in a rage today. Can’t blame her. Seems Crowe ‘ad come to bid ‘er farewell. “‘Im and ‘is son’s leaving the country tonight—”
“Tonight?” Lucian exclaimed.
“Aye, but ‘e’ll not be taking ‘is faithful Maude, and so ‘e told ‘er today. A right fierce row they ‘ad. As a partin’ gift to remember ‘ire by, Crowe blacked ‘er eye. When I comes in a minute after ‘e leaves, she’s more ‘an ‘appy to tell me most everything.”
“Including about Ashcott’s murder?”
“She weren’t so talkative ‘bout that at first. ‘Ad to twist ‘er arm, so to speak, afore she’d sing on that one. The Crowes murdered Ashcott just as you thought. Lured ‘im to that isolated path with the fake note and clubbed ‘im from behind.”
“They’ll hang for it,” Lucian said with satisfaction.
“If they don’t escape the country first. Got a vessel at Gravesend waiting to carry them cross the sea. The Golden Goose, ‘tis called.
.“Named after Crowe’s wife, no doubt,” Lucian said dryly. He was still puzzling over why the Crowes should suddenly be so anxious to flee the country. “Speaking of his wife, is he taking her with him, do you know?”
“Nay. ‘F only married ‘er for ‘er late husband’s fortune.”
“What I do not understand is why she married him,” Lucian said.
“According to Maude, when Lady Helen—that’s the wife’s name—came back to England after ‘er lover died, no one would ‘ave anything to do with ‘er. Both ‘er beauty and ‘er money were gone, and she was desperate. Rupert befriended ‘er, thinking there might be some gain in it for ‘im. She boasted to ‘im how when ‘er husband died, she’d be rich because Ashcott’s solicitor would do anything she wanted. That’s when Rupert got the idea of killing Ashcott and marrying ‘is widow.”
“They deserve each other,” Lucian muttered.
“Be that as it may, Rupert ‘as no use for ‘er now. Maude says ‘e’s kept ‘er in a drugged stupor at ‘is London house since ‘e married ‘er so she can’t cause ‘im no trouble.”
“He is very good at drugging people,” Lucian observed. “I want him stopped from leaving the country.”
“Don’t know, m’lord, if that’s possible now. Likely as not ‘e was agoing to Gravesend when ‘e left Maude’s. Wouldn’t surprise me none if ‘e slipped away already. Might be best if ‘e ‘as. Be no scandal that way.”
Pardy had a point, and Lucian considered it for a moment. But his desire to see the Crowes pay for their murder of Angel’s father overrode his desire to be rid of the matter. “No, I want him and his son brought to justice.”
“Me’ll see what can be done, but Pardy shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Me’ll need some lads. Even if me’s luck’s in and me finds them at the Black Knight Tavern, it’ll take time to get to Gravesend. Methinks ‘tis hopeless.”
“Try!” Lucian ordered curtly. “I will drop you at the Black Knight on my way to join my wife.”
Lucian would have preferred to go to Gravesend with Pardy, but he had promised his wife that he would join her at Mather’s within the hour, and he intended to keep every promise he made her.
“There will be a handsome bonus for you if you succeed in capturing them,” Lucian told Pardy.
But he knew that it was highly unlikely that he would be called upon to pay it.
The musical had not yet started when Angel arrived with her father-in-law, but most of the seats were already taken. The back row, however, was empty, and they sat there.
In the corner, an open door led out to the garden. Looking at it, Angel saw that Lucian had been right. It was an overgrown jungle, desperately in need of taming.
He had also been right about the room. It was already very hot and stuffy. Most of the women in the audience were making good use of their fans, and a number of people had drinks in their hands.
As she sat down, Wrexham whispered, “Let me see if I can find us something to drink.”
A moment later, Angel saw Kitty, looking lovely as always in a turquoise brocade overgown and a white silk petticoat trimmed with Dresden lace, pass the door with her married half sister Anne. Anger rippled through Angel at the memory of the grief her last, unhappy meeting with Kitty had caused her.
The musicians had taken their places at the front of the room and begun tuning their instruments.
When the music started a few minutes later, Wrexham still had not returned. Angel looked around for him and saw that he had been waylaid just outside the door by an elderly gentleman in a flowing white wig.
As she looked away, she caught sight of Kitty crossing the rear of the room with a short, stocky footman in ill- fitting livery.
The servant, his back toward Angel, led Kitty through the door in the corner to the overgrown garden.
How odd, Angel thought. The garden was not lit, and it was clearly not intended for the guests’ use. And something about the footman was vaguely familiar.
He guided Kitty down a narrow path. As she disappeared into the vegetation with the footman behind her, it dawned on Angel that he was the same size and build as the man who had caused so much trouble for her at the Kingsleys. Surely it could not be, could it?
A shiver of alarm and fear ran up Angel’s spine. Was Kitty in danger? She remembered Horace’s obsession with her. In her concern for Kitty’s safety, Angel forgot the girl’s cruel, malicious behaviour at their last meeting.
If only Angel had seen the footman’s face. Most likely he was not the man with the scar, but Angel had to find out. Impulsively, without any thought of the danger she might be placing herself in, Angel jumped up and slipped out of the door after the pair.
The garden was unlit except for the weak illumination coming through the windows of the house and the wan light of a sliver moon. Kitty and the footman had disappeared into the darkness that engulfed most of the garden.
Angel followed the same narrow, winding path that they had taken. The going was difficult in the dark for the way was winding and uneven.
With each step, Angel
’s concern for Kitty intensified. Finally, she called softly, Kitty, Kitty.”
Ahead of her, Angel heard what sounded like a smothered cry.
In the dark, she failed to see a thick root protruding into the path. She tripped over it and fell hard to the ground with a thud that sounded as loud as a cannon shot to her ears.
She heard a muffled exclamation ahead of her.
As Angel tried to scramble to her feet, a burly silhouette twice her size burst upon her, grabbing her roughly.
One arm went round her waist, pinning her arms helplessly to her sides while a ham-sized hand closed over her mouth, sealing off her scream.
Chapter 32
Angel struggled against her captor with all the strength she possessed, even though he was twice her size. Deprived of the use of both her arms and her voice, she had to settle for trying to squirm from his iron grasp and kicking him as hard as she could in the shins.
He grunted in pain but did not let her go. Instead, he yanked her off her feet. Careful to keep his hand over her mouth, he tucked her under his arm as though she were a parcel of negligible weight and carried her toward the back wall of the garden.
Angel tried to shove his hamlike hand away from her mouth and continued to kick at him furiously, but her efforts were of no avail.
Her captor suddenly hauled her upright. Another shadow, this one considerably shorter, stepped in front of her. From his stature, she suspected that it must be the fraudulent footman with the scarred chin.
The huge hand came away from her mouth. She got only the first half-note of a shriek out before the second shadow stuffed a loathsome rag into her mouth and tied it, silencing her again.
A second later, the big man released her so unexpectedly that she stumbled forward. Before she could recover her balance, a thick blanket of scratchy, stinking wool engulfed her.
Even though she knew it was hopeless, she fought against the confines of the blanket until a rope was tightened with cruel force around her waist, pinning her arms helplessly at her side. A second rope bound her ankles, effectively stifling her struggles. She was trapped in the smothering blanket, which smelled of horses, dirt, and sweat.
“This ‘un’s a ‘ellcat,” a man’s gravelly voice observed.
“Too bad ‘er didn’t faint like the other one and make it easy,” a second voice, also male but not as deep, observed.
“‘Ave to take this ‘un with us, too,” gravel voice muttered.
“The man won’t like it, Sam,” his companion warned nervously. “Ye know ‘e won’t.”
“Can’t leave ‘er ‘ere to spread the alarm,” Sam answered tersely. “Get the other one in the carriage.”
Grabbing the trussed-up Angel, he slung her over his shoulder as though she were a sack of flour. He moved briskly forward in an unrhythmic gait, and she bounced helplessly against his shoulder. The stench of the blanket made her want to gag.
Angel heard a soft grating like the sound of a gate opening. A horse neighed. She heard a soft thud ahead of her. A minute later she was tossed onto a hard surface that she gathered from its narrowness and height from the ground was the floor of a carriage. Her thigh landed on a pair of boots.
A minute later, the carriage rocked from the sudden addition of weight, and she felt a second, larger pair of boots— Sam’s, no doubt—take their place by her own bound feet.
Angel longed to throw herself about on the floor and strike out at her captors, but she knew it would be a foolish waste of her strength. Better to save herself for a moment when she had a chance of succeeding.
The carriage door slammed shut, and wheels clattered against the cobbles as they rolled forward.
It was stifling inside the rough, reeking blanket. Between it and the gag in her mouth, Angel felt as though she had to battle for each breath she took.
The coach rattled along at a fast pace. When it careened around a corner, Angel’s head slammed into the vehicle’s door. She fought down her panic. She had to remain calm if she were to save Kitty and herself.
Surreptitiously, she tested the rope tied around the blanket at her ankles. It had no slack in it.
Angel heard a low, feminine moan from above her.
“‘Er comin’ round?” Sam asked.
“Nay. Still out cold.”
“‘Ope ‘er stays that way.”
It was some time—Angel could not guess how long— before the carriage rattled to a stop, and its door was flung open.
One of the men—Sam, Angel surmised from his size and strength—hauled her up, tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of turnips, and carried her from the coach.
She thought she heard the sound of the river, then the scrape of a door opening. She surmised she was being carried into a building. Then she was unceremoniously dumped on a hard floor. The man who had carried her propped her up in a corner, and left her, still gagged and bound in her blanket. His heavy tread receded, and she heard a key turning in a lock. As nearly as she could tell, she was alone.
Angel wondered in despair whether her abductors meant to leave her bound, gagged, and muffled in the scratchy, stinking, suffocating blanket all night—or longer. She fought down the panic that threatened to engulf her.
Several minutes later, the door squeaked open, and she heard two sets of footsteps coming toward her. They stopped in front of her, and someone fumbled with the rope around her feet.
A man growled, “Hurry up, you flea-brained whoreson. I want to see what you have snagged here.”
Angel froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Surely it could not be. “Please God, not him,” she prayed, but even as she offered it up, she knew that this plea was in vain.
“Damn you, Sam, you should have left her in the garden.”
“Couldn’t,” Sam protested as he pulled away the rope that bound her feet. “If ‘er was found, ‘er woulda giv’ alarm.”
“I hope for your sake as well as mine that she proves to be a lush beauty who will be worth the trouble she is causing me.”
Angel felt the rope around her arms and waist loosen and drop away. The foul blanket was yanked off her. Its smell was replaced by one almost as unpleasant, a fetid odour of mildew, refuse, and rotting fish.
In the meagre illumination of a rushlight, Angel looked up at Sir Rupert Crowe’s hard, dissipated face, glowering above her.
Her stepfather’s mouth parted in surprise as he recognized her. Then he threw back his head and emitted an exultant burst of laughter.
Sam was still hovering over Angel, but his small, close- set eyes were watching Crowe uneasily. Perceiving that his employer was pleased by the identity of his captive, he visibly relaxed, and his mouth twisted in an ugly grin that revealed a jumble of crooked, yellow teeth.
Angel grabbed at the filthy rag tied around her mouth and began unknotting it.
Sam seized her wrists to stop her.
“Let her go,” Crowe ordered. “She can scream her lungs out here, and it will do her no good. There is no one about who would care.” He nodded at Sam. “Wait for me outside the door.”
The burly giant let go of Angel and obediently withdrew.
She finished unknotting the horrid rag and yanked it from her mouth. Then she put her hands on the floor, touching damp, rough stone, and pushed herself up into a more comfortable sitting position in the corner.
Angel was in a small room with a cot along one of the high walls that were of the same gray stone as the floor. The only other furnishings were a small wooden table and stool in the middle of the room.
The sole window was set high in the wall, at least eight feet up, and was no more than a foot square. It was so small that Angel could not wiggle through it, even if she could reach it. Oiled paper rather than glass covered it.
She suspected that she was in a watchman’s room in one of those grimy warehouses on the docks of the Thames.
Crowe was eyeing Angel with such a mixture of triumph, enmity, and malevolence that she shivered despite herself.
“You cannot know how much I wished that you as well as Kitty could accompany Horace and me on our little voyage that your husband’s persecution is forcing us to undertake.” Rupert smirked and gave her an ironic little bow. “How very kind of you to accommodate me like this.”
Angel managed to keep her countenance impassive. She would not let Crowe know how much his words frightened her.
“Voyage to where?” she inquired with feigned nonchalance.
“The Americas,” he answered vaguely.
It was all Angel could do to keep from gasping aloud in dismay. When Crowe had mentioned a voyage, she had thought they must be going to the Continent. She would never have dreamed that they intended to sail for the wild lands on the other side of the ocean.
His smirk widened. “Once we are at sea, you may stand witness to the marriage of Horace to Kitty.”
“She despises him,” Angel cried. “She will not have him.”
“Her feelings are of no interest to me. Horace wants her as his wife, and he will have her. She was a fool to think she could escape him.”
“She will fight him.”
He gave Angel a smile so cruel that it seemed to freeze her blood. “I hope so. It will make it all the more exciting for him. And she’ll come round quick enough. His whip will see to that.”
Angel felt sick. She could not let this happen to Kitty.
“What of me? Why would you want to take me to the Americas with you?”
“I don’t.”
Angel frowned, “But you said—”
“I said that I wanted you to sail with us for the Americas. I did not say that you would arrive there. Once you have witnessed Kitty’s marriage to my son, I fear that you shall be washed overboard in an unfortunate accident.”
Angel was so shocked that she blurted out before she could stop her tongue, “You mean to murder me!”
He gave her a smile so awful in its baleful cruelty that she shivered.
“You meddling little bitch, you and that devil husband of yours managed to ruin all my plans. I assure you that nothing will give me greater pleasure than to feed you to the sharks.”
Devil’s Angel Page 33