Thea blinked against the stinging in her eyes and wished it could be as simple as that. She had no idea what she wanted right now, except she knew with absolute conviction that she really wanted him, but did she want to give up her freedom and independence for someone who disappeared for hours and risked his life every day? Her uncle John had learned just how much peril Rupert faced on a daily basis. Could she live each day not knowing if Rupert would ever come home again? On the other hand, could she live with the knowledge that she had pushed him away and turned her back on a love she knew she would never experience again?
She opened her mouth to speak only for the carriage to turn into the small mews that contained a small shop with a discrete sign hanging above the single doorway. A brightly coloured array of hats and fripperies on display in the window was the only indication that they were at Madame Coulieu’s dressmakers.
“It’s one of the finest in London, or so I am told,” Rupert sighed as he jumped down and dropped the step.
“I am sure that it will be fine,” Thea murmured as she eyed the bright array of materials on display in the small shop window. The chime of the bell above the door summoned a small, round faced lady of indeterminable age once they were inside and Thea stood back to allow Rupert to make the introductions.
“Stay here until I come back for you, Thea. I shouldn’t be long,” he ordered and turned to the modiste with his brows lifted. “How long will it take to select several outfits and accessories?”
The modiste’s eyes grew wide. “Oh at least two hours, sir. We will endeavour to take measurements so that the selected items are a perfect fit. Where do we deliver them?” The woman visibly gasped when Rupert gave the woman John’s name and address for the deliveries and the bill.
Immediately the woman snapped to attention and began to rap out orders to her assistants with far more skill than a general in the army. As she was dragged toward the rear of the shop, Thea’s stunned gaze turned toward Rupert, who shifted impatiently beside the door.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I will be back in two hours.”
Thea felt as though she had stepped into a whirlwind she couldn’t get out of. Her conversation with Rupert had been interrupted by their arrival at the shop, but she had not had the opportunity to voice any of her feelings before being swept inside. Within seconds of him leaving the shop, she was shown to a tiny back room where she was stripped of everything apart from her undergarments. She now stood with her arms akimbo while Madame Coulieu and her veritable army of assistants measured, assessed, and coddled her. She wasn’t quite sure why the woman’s demeanour had changed from being rather distant and snooty to overly efficient and enthusiastic, but was slightly bemused by it.
Once her measurements had been taken, she was seated on a plush chaise and served tea and cakes while a vast array of dresses, shawls and adornments were brought out for her delectation. Thea had never felt so cosseted in all of her life, or so out of place. The huge variety of silks, laces and the finest muslin made her ancient walking dress seem even more dowdy and outdated than ever before and Thea began to feel incredibly uncomfortable.
While the modiste rambled on about the Nottinghamshire origins of the lace she held, Thea’s mind began to wander and she mentally tried to calculate how long it would be until Rupert came to collect her. She suddenly wished that she had never suggested the outing at all, but smiled and nodded when Madame Coulieu beamed proudly at her selection. Thea sighed and watched her disappear into a back room and nearly groaned aloud when she re-appeared moments later with an assortment of undergarments for Thea to choose from.
“Oh, well, I was only going to supplement my wardrobe,” Thea gasped as she eyed the rather fetching kidskin gloves the modiste displayed over one arm. “It has been some time since I have been able to shop, you see, and I wanted to update my hideously outdated wardrobe as quickly as possible.”
“Your husband gave me his direction and said that there was to be no expense spared. He left instruction for you to be kitted out with everything a young lady should wish for,” the woman reported proudly, clearly determined to carry out her instructions to the letter. “I can assure you that these are the latest fashion. Everyone is wearing them.”
Feeling slightly brow beaten, Thea nodded and watched them disappear into the back room to be packaged with the rest of the items she had purchased. As one hour turned into two and edged into three, Thea wondered if there was going to be anything left in the shop by the time Rupert came back.
She felt bruised from the very top of her head to the bottom of her soles with the prodding, poking and measuring that had taken place. She was certain that these ladies knew her far more intimately than Rupert ever did and it was only when the modiste brought out a newly designed, hideously bright ball gown that Thea knew she had to do something.
“Now, if Madame would slip off her underskirts, we can try on this wonderful silk creation that is just in.”
Thea shook her head. “No, it is fine. You have my measurements.”
“But it really would be better if Madame could try it on beforehand, so we know what we are working to,” the woman argued briskly.
Thea knew when to give in to pressure and nodded her agreement. It had been nearly three hours since Rupert had dropped her off and she couldn’t stop the worry that began to grow. Where was he? Was he alright? Had he been injured?
When she had tried on the dress as instructed and deemed it too bright for her tastes, she returned to the shop with determined strides. “If you can package them and deliver them to Ridings, that would be most suitable,” Thea murmured and began to gather her new gloves and cloak.
“Oh, but the master said to wait here until he came for you. If you would like to take a seat I can bring you more tea, I am sure that it is much better waiting in here than outside where it is cold. It is going to get dark soon, and it is best that you don’t go wandering around London unescorted. I don’t mind calling a carriage for you, if that is what you wish,” Madame Coulieu argued. She had clearly picked up on Rupert’s concern for her safety and was determined to ensure that her most well connected customer didn’t go without.
Thea glanced outside. Dusk had already started to descend, and Madame Coulieu was indeed right, it wouldn’t be long before it was completely dark. It was enough to help her make a decision and she turned toward the modiste with a smile.
“If you wouldn’t mind calling me a carriage, I should like to get home to see how my uncle is doing.”
“Of course, madam,” she agreed and beckoned to an assistant who hurried out of the door. “Now, I shall call by first thing in the morning with your items and we will do a final fitting to ensure that you are happy with your selection then. I must say that I am delighted that you have chosen to favour us with your custom and I am sure that you will be pleased with our services.”
“I am sure that I will be,” Thea murmured quietly. The over attentive fussing was starting to make her feel hemmed in. She was already in a shop that was overcrowded with dresses of all shapes and colours, and the usual paraphernalia a modern lady needed. To have a swarm of people hovering around her as well was starting to make her feel giddy.
Within minutes, a dark carriage pulled up outside. Thea was busy putting her new gloves on, relieved at last to be able to leave the closeted confines of the cluttered shop as she walked outside. Once on the pavement, she took a deep breath of the crisp air and visibly relaxed. At first she didn’t think anything of the rather nondescript carriage that stood motionless outside the shop doorway and just assumed it was the carriage the assistant had summoned for her.
It was only when she realised that the coachman hadn’t climbed down from his box seat to drop the step that she realised that something was amiss and she glanced up at him. Her heart lurched at the familiar sight of the top hat the coachman wore. Suddenly the tea she had spent the better part of the afternoon drinking suddenly began to churn in her stomach.
Deep
in her heart she knew it was the same carriage as the one she had seen outside of Ridings the other night; the one Rupert believed belonged to the Frenchman who shot her uncle. She glanced to the left toward the end of the mews that met with the main road and watched a regular black carriage rumble past. The coachman who drove it was swaddled in a cloak but otherwise looked relatively normal. Unfortunately, the coachman who was seated atop the huge carriage before her was darkly, almost sinisterly, garbed from head to toe in black. Now that she had the chance to study him up close, it was impossible to see anything of his face beneath the brim of the hat. It wasn’t the sight of him that unnerved her, it was the fact that he had yet to move or even glance at her.
She shivered and jumped as the shop door closed behind her with a thump. It took a considerable amount of effort to appear relatively calm and at ease while she tried to decide what to do. The waning light warned her that she had been in the dressmakers far longer than was wise and it was going to be dark before she got anywhere near Uncle John’s house in Mayfair.
Rather than approach the carriage, she walked steadily past it with her eyes firmly locked on the busy thoroughfare at the end of the mews. With each step she took her mind raced and she tried desperately to decide what to do. Should she go back to the dressmakers and stay inside until Rupert appeared? What if he had been injured though and hadn’t told anyone where she was? She could send a note to Ridings, but had no idea if Marcus was still there and in a position to be able to come and fetch her. She could send for Argus, but he was a butler not a member of the Star Elite and would be no match for a ruthless Frenchman.
She was visibly trembling as she walked steadily toward the main street. Her boots rang hollowly on the cobbles beneath her feet but it was the only sound that broke the enclosed silence within the small group of buildings. Her ears strained for any sound of movement behind her, but there was nothing. She closed her eyes on a prayer and thought about how her uncle had been shot. She was in clear view of anyone who held a gun and wanted to hurt her. While she approached the main street, her stomach churned and she waited for the loud retort that would bring about her end.
By the time she reached the main street, she was battling the urge to cry. She struggled to hear anything past the heavy thumping of her own heartbeat but was certain that the carriage hadn’t moved and wasn’t following her. One quick glace back at the mews confirmed that her suspicions were indeed accurate. The coachman had done nothing more than turn in his seat to look at her. At least that’s what she thought he was doing. His shoulders were half turned toward her, but a thick scarf covered the bottom half of his face obscuring any hint of a face beneath. It gave him a rather sinister air that warned her that he was the reason why Rupert had not returned to fetch her. She wondered once again if Rupert was alright, and considered briefly if she should go to the relative safety of the War Office, but had no idea where that was either. London was such a huge place and if she did hail a carriage, she was only going to get followed by the carriage behind her.
She suddenly realised that she had no idea where she was, and was unable to find her own way home on foot. She would have to hail another carriage, and hope that the one in the mews didn’t follow.
She desperately tried to quell the panic that threatened to overtake her, and hurried onto the main street. The low rumble of noise from within the mews warned her that the carriage had turned around and was following. She glanced quickly up and the down the main street and was horrified to see that there was no public carriages she could hail. There was little choice, she had to walk. At the end of the road she turned in the direction she thought they had come from earlier and lengthened her stride as much as she was able. The now familiar protest of her legs as they struggled with the pressure she was putting onto them made her gasp but she refused to slow her pace.
Tears gathered in her eyes. She used the people who were walking toward her to dodge this way and that while she desperately scoured the area for any sign of a carriage. She had no idea whether she was even heading in the right direction, and was more than a little concerned to note that the end of the road that lay before her headed toward a residential part of the city where rows upon rows of town houses were less likely to afford her any kind of assistance.
Darkness seemed to fall upon the city rapidly and it was dark by the time she walked down a side street in desperate search of Mayfair. While she walked she was aware that the carriage was steadily following although it made no attempt to approach her. She could feel the coachman’s piercing gaze in middle of her back but daren’t turn to look at him. The fact that her uncle John had been shot was something that she struggled to block out. If she even started to consider the depth of the danger she was in she would let panic in, and that could only work against her.
She swiped at the first spots of rain on her cheeks with the back of one trembling hand and fervently wished that she had never even considered leaving Uncle John’s house. She had no idea how long she had been walking but her legs were excruciating and she was growing increasingly exhausted with every step she took. Tears pooled on her lashes as she turned to the right at the end of the road only to find herself facing yet another long row of houses that seemed to lead toward nothing other than more accommodation.
Suddenly, behind her, she became aware of a low hubbub of noise and turned to glance over her shoulder. She almost cried aloud at the sight of people crossing the road, and carriages and coaches rumble past on what was clearly a main road. Although it was going to draw her closer to the carriage following her, she had no choice but to double back and hurry toward the street lights, people, and safety.
At least if she could hail a carriage on the main road she could find her way home. If there were no carriages available, at least someone would be able to tell her how far away from Mayfair she was. In that moment she was aware of the rumbling of carriage wheels approaching at speed. She tried to lengthen her stride but her legs simply wouldn’t co-operate. Keeping her eyes firmly locked on the safety of the main street up ahead she gritted her teeth and quickened the pace anyway.
Out of the corner of her eye she spied the dark shape of the horse draw alongside her at the same time that someone jumped down from the carriage. Before they could reach her she broke into a run. Pain lanced down her legs with such ferocity that there was little she could do except cry out and stop while she battled the wave of sickness that threatened to overwhelm her.
Long arms immediately swept around her waist and lifted her bodily off her feet. There was little she could do except squirm against the tight hold that dragged her back toward the carriage. Panic swept over her and she opened her mouth and let out an ear piercing scream as she kicked out with her legs. She continued to scream, aware of the curses and grunts from the man holding her as he tried to drag her back toward the conveyance. At some point the coachman appeared beside her to lend a hand only for both men to suddenly stop and stare up the street.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At first, the sight of several men running down the street toward them didn’t filter through Thea’s fear and she continued to half-scream, half-cry as she wriggled and squirmed and desperately fought for her life.
“Oi! What you doing? Let go of her!” One man shouted as he lumbered toward them.
The man behind her cursed fluidly in a language that turned Thea’s blood cold. She knew in that second that this was the man that Rupert was after, but was it Fornier? What had he done with Rupert? For one moment her assailants didn’t move and she wondered if they were going to let her go, only for her hopes to be cruelly dashed when the redoubled their efforts to get her into the murky depths beside her.
With her thoughts firmly locked on the suspicion that these men had harmed Rupert, Thea allowed her anger to take hold of her. She daren’t think about what was likely to happen if they succeeded in dragging her off the street and focused on her fear for the man she loved. Her thoughts locked firmly Rupert, whom she would lea
ve behind if she died, and it gave her the strength and determination she needed to fight. She had never told him how she felt, not before their wedding day four years ago, or at any point since he had reappeared in her life. Now, she bitterly regretted the missed opportunity.
With her eyes locked firmly on the approaching rescuers, she screamed again and dug her fingernails painfully into the arm that was around her waist at the same time that she lifted her foot and kicked the horse firmly on its leg. It was enough to make the horse jerk and sidle to one side and, in doing so, the carriage wheel closest to them moved. Her would-be captor was nudged off balance as he backed into the wheel and his hold loosened enough for her to wrench herself free.
She threw herself onto the cobbles to get out of the way, and lay gasping for air as she battled the stars behind her eyes. A loud volley of curses behind her warned her that the attackers weren’t prepared to give up just yet. If she remained where she was they would almost certainly try again. She judged the distance between herself and the small crowd of people running to her assistance, and knew that she had to do something to get herself out of danger. Gritting her teeth and scrambling to her feet was painful, but she focused on the wonderful sight of rescue to gather the strength she needed to head toward them.
Amid the loud grumbles and threats the crowd issued her assailants as they fled, Thea captured the attention of one man and clutched his arm with desperate fingers.
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