The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 6

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "But Boss—"

  "We had a good run. To try to continue with this, this farce, would be to profane Miranda’s memory. It’s over. Just end it now."

  "But Boss, where is she?"

  He shrugged his shoulders miserably. "I wish to God I knew."

  Daniel stared at him in horror. "But I thought she was married? Safe?"

  George shook his head, his dark eyes black with misery. "I don’t know who that man was. But I doubt he was Oxnard. I don’t know where she is or what’s happened. So close the theatre. We need to concentrate all our efforts on finding her and bringing her back.

  "I’ll carry on paying everyone’s wages, but I need us to leave no stone unturned. I don’t care if she’s married to another man or not. I need to know she’s still alive. I pray to God she’s still alive, but it’s looking like more and more of a forlorn hope," he admitted, his voice catching on a sob.

  "Sebastian will find her," Daniel promised. "He’s tracking Oxnard now, trying to find out anything he can about him."

  "Oh, thank God." George began to sag with relief.

  Daniel took his arm and led him back to the coach. "Go back to Fulham House. Maybe there’s word there. Don't give up hope. That girl loved you, and loved her life here, I'm sure of it. Look, Boss, I don't know much about what's been going on between the two of you, or her and Oxnard, but I'm sure if anyone was in love it was the two of you."

  "I thought we were. I was all set to propose to her that afternoon, you know, the afternoon she vanished."

  Daniel looked pleased, but grave. "A hostage to fortune? For you of all people, George?"

  "Aye, but one I thought I could protect."

  "A tough business in your game, eh?"

  He nodded.

  "Then it's time to get out of the game."

  He lolled his head back and sighed. "It may be too late. God help me, Daniel, if it is, what will I do?"

  He rested his hand on his shoulder. "I know for a fact that if she's still alive, she will come back to the people who care about her most. She'll come back to you, Boss."

  "I pray God you're right, old friend, for otherwise, well, my life is truly over."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sebastian returned early the next morning, looking weary, but fresh as a daisy compared to his disheveled older friend. George had been up again all night, once again pulling in every favour, and bribing anyone who was reluctant to help him track down Oxnard or Miranda.

  "Did you find her or him?"

  Sebastian shook his head. "I'm sorry, no. She's still out there somewhere and he's at large. But I did find out news about him. They can’t possibly be really married."

  George gaped. "What?"

  "Oxnard is already married, to a little blond wife called Lucinda Howell."

  "But that’s good. We can find Miranda, get her away from—"

  "If we find her."

  "Well, he’s married. He must live somewhere. If not the house in Surrey, then—"

  Sebastian shook his head. "He doesn’t appear to have a regular establishment at this time due to all his debts."

  He blinked in surprise. "But you just said he has a wife. Where is she?"

  "So far as I could discover, Bedlam," Sebastian said quietly.

  George felt a shiver down his spine. "What?"

  The tall young blond man nodded. "Aye. After she married him she went into a worse and worse decline. Apparently her sister tried to help, reason with her. She also tried to get the Earl to treat her better, make some decent provision for her other than lock her away in a mad house.

  "But the fact is he was drowning in the River Tick. He could disguise it for a time, but he’s in debt up to his eyes and no one in his household had been paid for months so the house fell empty. His wife came with a good enough dowry, but it was all gone in a matter of weeks. It’s evident that he wanted to be rid of the woman so he could remarry."

  "Aye, looking for wife number five," Alistair said quietly as he entered.

  "Five!"

  "Yes."

  "But Miranda’s only an actress. Why would he—"

  Philip came in with his wife Jasmine and said gently, "Miranda’s not just an actress, George. She’s a gentlewoman with a good fortune. The how and why don’t matter now, but—"

  "I could guess that, once I got to know her. But her family were all indifferent to her. Unless they’ve—"

  He shook his head. "No, they don’t know where she is. I’ve checked, believe me. I only wish she had turned to one of us for help before running off with Oxnard," Philip said with a sigh.

  "So once he discovered who Miranda really was, he decided she would be the next pigeon?" George guessed in disbelief.

  Philip shook his dark head. "No, I don’t think he could have. He never would have treated her so barbarically if he had. No, I think he thought she was an ordinary woman, and that he could get away with his depravity because she was a mere actress."

  "So if the wife is still alive, there’s no chance that the wedding the other girls witnessed was valid," George said, fury and relief mingling in his heart.

  "No, none," Alistair agreed, his expression grim. "That’s not to say he won’t try to keep her until such time as his present wife dies of neglect. So we might have some time on our side. For instance, Miranda may have told him who she is by now in an attempt to get him to treat her better. Buy herself some time to try to get word to us or her other friends and her family. She's a smart woman, resourceful.

  "The trouble is, he may or may not believe her. But he knows it would be a bigamous marriage and therefore disallowed. That they will be separated and there will be consequences. He will know she is ruined no matter what and that he has nothing to gain now, since he can have no rightful claim to her or her fortune in these circumstances. He can at best hope to blackmail the family to keep her ruin quiet. I'm hoping that this will be enough to prevent him from killing her, if he hasn't done so already."

  "No, she's alive, I know it!" George insisted, glaring at the silver-haired barrister.

  "I hope you're right. But just keep in mind, with his wife mad, he may get away with his plot. He wouldn’t be the first man to try to make up for a rape or other debaucheries by offering marriage."

  George paced up and down. "It was a false marriage, she found out, or he, well, they….." He paused for a moment, nearly choking on the bile bubbling at the back of her throat. Finally he got command of his voice to complete the sentence. "And she either jumped out the window or was pushed. Surely the authorities will—"

  "It will be our word against his, and he’s an earl," Philip pointed out gently.

  George's growl was inarticulate, but spoke volumes.

  Alistair stared for a moment, then said, "We need to go see the lady in question. Make certain. Try to get some evidence against him, perhaps?"

  Sebastian shook his head. "I fear she might be too mad to be of much use."

  "We won’t know until we ask. And if not here, then perhaps the woman’s sister might also be able to shed some light on all of this."

  "We can but try."

  "What is the wife called again?"

  "Lucinda. And the sister is Gabrielle."

  Sebastian and George hurried over to the asylum of Bethlehem Hospital, otherwise known as Bedlam, and found everything in an uproar.

  "I can’t let you in, or anyone else. They’ve escaped!" the guard declared with a shake of his head.

  "Escaped? Who’s escaped?" George demanded.

  "The woman and the man. They disguised themselves as a harlot and pimp and walked out the front door bold as you please."

  "Harlot?" George echoed in confusion.

  "You know, them wot ply their fleshly trade here in Bedlam. They had to have had help from some of the tarts that work here. They’ve escaped!"

  "Surely one little woman can’t be that dangerous."

  "Not her, the man!" he said, shaking his head. "A raving lunatic, so he is. Cut a man’s thr
oat a few weeks back. Slit his gizzards from ear to ear. Started a prison riot, tried to rape two women. We’ve been told we have to take him dead or alive."

  "And he took the woman prisoner?" Sebastian demanded, thinking with a sinking feeling of the three women and the drunken man he had just loaned George's carriage to when he had seen them staggering up the busy road desperately looking for a conveyance.

  The lovely blond woman had seemed so frail, delicate, and the others had appeared harmless, just seemed tipsy...

  "Dunno about that. She’s probably already dead. We need to inform her husband, the Earl of Oxnard straight away."

  "I know the Earl," George said quickly. "I would be happy to soften the news with a few kind words about how you are doing everything in your power to find the poor benighted wretch."

  "Oh, would you, sir? All the way down in Surrey?"

  "I would be only too happy to help you. I can see how distressing all of this had been for you. How long have they been missing?

  "I’m really not sure. Pretty recently."

  Damn. Was it coincidence, or had Castlereagh’s men spirited the woman away? Was she even now lying at the bottom of a ditch somewhere with her throat cut?

  His mind whirred. Harlot. Well, he knew plenty of those. Someone had to be working this area, and if so, they would have seen something.

  Also, the woman would have had to have help in the form of clothes for the man, and had to know that they would be hunted down if they couldn’t come up with a safe place to hide. Where could be safer than a brothel, as he had discovered. The only question was, which one?

  "Was he a large man or small?"

  "Very large. Almost as big as you, sir, and opium addict on top of all his other vices."

  "I see. Thank you."

  He nodded to Sebastian. He remained silent about having helped them; he was a good judge of character, and the red-headed woman had seemed a decent sort. The blond haired girl had been exquisite...

  Still, they could try Tavistock Crescent, where she had said she was returning. Mistress Sin’s establishment was as likely a place as any to try. And the guard had just said he was an opium addict. He would try the worst of the dens next.

  Sebastian hailed a cab and they began their search.

  "Why there?" George asked curiously.

  Sebastian shrugged. "Just a guess. Come on, we need to get a cab. One of the horses threw a shoe so I told the driver to go on without us."

  George frowned slightly, but pressed on, now desperately searching for Miranda and Oxnard's living but insane wife, who by all accounts had kidnapped by a most dangerous killer. A large, brutal killer.

  It was hard to clothe a man as large as himself, he well knew. The woman or women, harlots, as they had appeared, had clearly had help, prepared in advance for the man's escape.

  Was he a killer who had just happened to come upon a few unwitting dupes in Bedlam. Or was he helped in order to kill the first wife Lucinda. In which case, was he to soon meet up with his employer, the Earl of Oxnard, and do away with yet another inconvenient 'wife'?

  CHAPTER SIX

  At Tavistock Crescent too the trail went cold. Not a single woman they spoke with had been able to shed any light on the events at the mental hospital. No one had seen three harlots, black, auburn, and fair, and a tall dark man. Their own driver had left them off there, and had no clue as to where they had proceeded to. They had seemed to go into the brothel so far as he could see.

  Sebastian sighed. He thought of the poor blonde woman who had reeked of gin. Everyone had said Oxnard's wife was blond. The dark haired woman and the red-head had been lovely too, but the blonde had been an angel.

  So that had been Oxnard’s wife? The poor child. She looked as though her life had been shattered beyond repair, and if he was not mistaken, the poor woman was with child.

  The sister too, as he guessed her to be, had been lovely but haunted-looking. It sickened him to think how close they had been. He burned to make Oxnard pay for every foul thing he had ever done to any woman who had crossed his path.

  Well, all was not lost. He would try the opium dens, then all the coaching inns. The man had not looked like a dangerous killer at all. More like a skeleton being held up by two women.

  He now recollected the way the red-head had looked at him. Not with fear, but love. How on earth was it possible for love to have grown in a hell-hole like Bedlam?

  But that was not the question here. The question was, had Oxnard helped spirit his wife away? Or was it the Foreign Minister playing puppet-master….

  George burnt with impotent fury. How was it they had all managed to get one step ahead of him? Damn Castlereagh…

  Back at Fulham House, Sebastian offered again, "Do you want us to come with you, confront him?"

  George wiped the tears from his eyes. "It would serve no purpose. You know yourself. The longer a person is missing, the less likely they will be found. Alive at any rate."

  "None of this makes sense, though. Everything points to the man who took Miranda being the real Oxnard. How did he dare?"

  "Castlereagh put him up to it, gave him money, I'm sure of it," George said wearily. "He will get him to do something sordid in exchange. You know the drill. It happened to you, after all. He always did say everyone had a price. Rich or poor, someone always had one weakness, one thing they wanted above all else. Exploit that weakness, and you have them by the testicles."

  Sebastian rose from the settee. "If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to keep on Oxnard’s trail. Any luck with that spy you were going to put into Castlereagh’s office?"

  George shook his head and rose from his own chair. "Not yet, but I'm hopeful we can manage soon. I have a handy young chap with an impeccable degree in law who comes with superb recommendations. He just happens to be a superb thief as well to help support his family so they stay out of debtor's prison. He's applied already. But Castlereagh's security is tighter than a nun’s knickers at the moment. We need to bide our time. Not make any false moves. He knows I’m gunning for him now."

  "Please, promise me you won’t," Sebastian pleaded. "You’re my best friend and—"

  George clapped him on the shoulder. "And you mine, lad. I promise I won’t. Not now, anyway. I need to find Miranda. I can’t think of anything else but that."

  "You know, George, it’s been days. The chances of finding her alive are..."

  "Don’t you dare bloody say it!" George barked. "If you’ve ever been my friend, don’t even suggest what you’re about to! She’s alive out there. She just has to be. Because if she isn’t, I’m going to slit the throats of every man who’s been a danger to my friends, and then shoot myself."

  Sebastian’s eyes were as round as saucers. "No, you’re not! Don’t you dare leave me and Viola on our own to fend for ourselves. The world would be a much poorer place without you.

  "Besides, you’re not the suicidal type. There are other ways to destroy a man besides cutting his throat or putting a bullet through his head. You and I have seen them, engineered them all. Just think about it, will you?"

  George shook his head. "I can’t think of anything but Miranda."

  Sebastian smiled sourly. "I can’t think of anything else but revenge. What a fine pair Castlereagh’s made of us." He patted George on the shoulder and left.

  Philip and Jasmine came in a short time later. Jasmine was bearing some beef broth and a pot of tea.

  "You need to keep up your strength. Miranda is going to come home and will need your help. She can’t see you like this."

  "I don’t want any," he said stubbornly, turning his head away.

  "And you need to get washed and shaved, change your clothes," Philip added softly. "You’ve not eaten or slept or attended to your toilette since all this started. Miranda is going to think she’s the partner to a madman if she catches you looking like this."

  "Listen, I know the two of you mean well, but she might not be—"

  "She loves you. She’ll
find you. You need to trust in that," Philip insisted.

  "Damn. I never even got to tell her I love her, ask her to marry—" The bitter tears began to fall. "How could she have—"

  "You’re not going to blame her when she comes back, are you?" Jasmine asked with a frown.

  "Blame her? God in Heaven, I’m going to kiss her feet, beg her to forgive me, and never let her go. No matter what’s happened. She did nothing. She was deceived. By me most of all.