“Please, can you tell me where to find Mayfair?”
“Mayfair, missus?” The market trader piped up. “It is only a couple of miles away back that way.”
Thea almost groaned as the man pointed to the long row of houses behind her and she mentally cursed her own stupidity of not making sure where she was and how to get home before Rupert had left her. Although he had meant well, Rupert had left her in considerable danger by simply abandoning her in the dressmakers shop because she had no idea where she Madame Coulieu’s shop was located and she hadn’t given any thought to securing a carriage to collect her before he left.
Amid several assurances that she really was shaken but unharmed, she found herself escorted to a carriage that waited at the end of the street, with a beefy coachman atop who assured her that he would get her home safely. If it hadn’t been for the ready assistance of some earnest locals, she dreaded to think what would have happened to her and she took a moment to thank them all before accepting the gracious hands that helped her to safety.
She had scratches on her arms, and her legs ached fiercely with the exertion they had endured, but at least she was alive. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to get down without making a fool of herself when she got to Ridings, but at least she could get home now. If it hadn’t been for the locals, heaven only knew what would have happened to her. She sat back against the squabs and watched the assorted houses roll past, all the while searching for that macabre carriage driver who wasn’t so motionless after all.
Rupert stood in the corner of the empty warehouse and studied the long row of houses several hundred yards away. Their ramshackle state bespoke of extreme poverty that was rife in what was undoubtedly one of London’s poorest areas.
“Which one is it?”
“Third one on the left,” Marcus whispered. They had already scoured the warehouse they stood in and were tucked away out of sight in a place that gave them a perfect view over the busy docks.
“When was our target last seen there?” Rupert studied the house that Fornier had been seen entering a couple of hours ago. He knew that Lucas, Jacob and Harry were in the area somewhere. He could only hope that one, if not more of them had been able to follow the carriage, and Fornier, when he had left the area. Rupert cursed his luck. If he had only been a few minutes earlier he could have stopped the carriage from leaving and brought an end to the investigation sooner rather than later.
Although their boss, Sir Hugo, had ordered Fornier to be taken alive so they could question him, Rupert had no preference whether the man was still breathing when his crimes and misdemeanours were brought to an end. His priorities had changed, especially after what he and Thea had shared last night.
If he had to push matters along a bit to bring a swift resolution to the case, then that is what he would do. Anything but sit back and allow Fornier to leave the country. Now that the Frenchman had returned to London and taken up residence so close to the docks, it was evident that he was planning to flee the country and head back to France. Time was of the essence and, given that the man had already escaped capture once before, it was imperative that they get him behind bars soon.
As Rupert studied the buildings surrounding them, his thoughts turned to Thea and he wondered if she had chosen her outfits yet. He mentally calculated the time and winced when he realised that his two hours were nearly over. If he was lucky, and could bring his part in the investigation to an end within the next two minutes, he would have approximately twenty minutes to get across London. It was going to be close, but he had told her to stay where she was until he came for her. Thea was sensible, and the injuries to her legs meant that she would not be apt to wander off on her own accord. He was confident that she would do as he had told her and remain at the dressmakers until he arrived to take her home.
“Come on, let’s go and take a look at the house,” Harry whispered, and edged toward the far end of the warehouse. The Star Elite had had cause to work around the docks on several previous investigations and that resulted in all of them being familiar with the buildings in the area. They knew which houses had back alleys, and where the danger points were. Together, he and Marcus made their way to the back of the third house in the long row of sailors’ cottages and stood hidden in shrubbery while they studied the rear of the building.
“Please tell me that someone followed the carriage,” Rupert breathed.
“Luke and Jacob.”
“Excellent. Let’s go.”
With practised precision the men worked their way toward the back door of the house Fornier had used as a base. The stench that hit them when the door swung inward assaulted their nostrils with a ruthless determination that warned them both that they wouldn’t like what they were going to find inside.
A search of the house revealed that the source of the smell came from the previous occupant, who had clearly met with a swift and brutal end in order to make way for Fornier’s men who, from the look of it, had made full use of the property. Litter and debris of all kinds was strewn over every available surface. The array of empty wallets, bags and purses were a testament to just how severe the Frenchman’s plight had become. Clearly, the days of benefitting from the support of several wealthy financial backers were long gone and had been replaced with a lifestyle that befitted a vagrant living on the fringes of society. From the looks of the house, Fornier had chosen to link up with thieves and purse snatchers, and had most probably taken to thieving himself in order to gather enough funds to purchase the food he needed.
“I don’t know what to think,” Marcus sighed and kicked a lavishly beaded purse out of the way.
“About what?”
“If Fornier is as desperate as this suggests, how can he afford the upkeep of a horse let alone pay a carriage, or a coachman to drive the bloody thing.”
“Fornier could be the coachman. It would explain how he managed to get a clear shot of the front door of Ridings,” Rupert sighed.
“Fine, I accept that, but how did he afford to buy the horse and carriage in the first place? I mean this is London. It is expensive to keep a horse here. If Fornier is so short of funds that he has to resort to pick-pocketing, how is he affording a horse and carriage and their storage?”
“Fornier still has help.” Rupert cursed when he stepped on a stray purse and heard a crunching noise as the contents were crushed beneath his boots.
“It can’t be one of his French associates. They are either dead or in prison.”
“He has one financier left, you know that,” Rupert studied the dark scowl on Marcus’ face and knew that something else was bothering his friend and colleague.
“I know, but that doesn’t explain why he is resorting to pick-pocketing. If he has a financier, why is he bothering with bag snatchers?” Marcus grumbled and randomly began to search through the pile of bags and purses. All had been cleared of coins and notes but the rest of the contents which could have been traded, remained untouched. They completed a thorough search of the rest of the house but found nothing of any use.
“Are you sure it was Fornier who has been coming and going from here?” Rupert asked with a snort. He threw the bags he held back onto the pile and moved to look out of the window.
“Definitely. He wore that stupid top hat when he left the house. He was definitely driving the coach as he left because he passed right by me.”
“Where was the carriage kept? I mean, where did it come from?”
Marcus glanced at him and made his way to the back of the house. “It came from the coal merchants down the road. He paid the coal merchant a large amount of cash for long-term storage and upkeep of the horse. The carriage comes and goes at all hours but the bloke doesn’t bother to keep track of it, and has seen the kind of men Fornier has around him to know not to ask questions.”
“The thieves and pick-pockets are working the area to keep an eye out for us. In exchange Fornier has given them a house they can use to sort out their goods.”
�
�I don’t understand,” Marcus sighed. “It just doesn’t make sense. Fornier must have a financier who provided him with the coach and horse to move around London undetected. The man passed right under our very noses at least three times and none of us were any the wiser. If he hadn’t shot John, and you caught sight of the coach in the area at the same time, he could have slipped out of the country without being found.”
Rupert scowled and put his hands on his hips as he stared at the putrid mess surrounding them. “So why is he still in England? What is he waiting for?”
“The next ship heading past France?” Marcus was only half-joking. If he didn’t get away from this stench soon he was going to be sick. He motioned to Rupert, who followed him out into the dark evening air with a sigh of relief.
“I think it is evident that this house isn’t his base. It is the pick-pockets base. Fornier is coming here purely to collect money.”
“One of them must be a contact of some sort. Why else would Fornier get his French feet dirty in this filth?”
“He could have the thieves on his payroll. They are out amongst the public, thieving and watching out for us. They could be tipping Fornier off as to where we are and what we are up to,” Rupert growled, thinking about how Fornier had appeared so soon after he and Thea had chosen to take a walk in the park. There hadn’t been enough time for anyone who had spotted them leaving the house to run half way across the city to the docks, and the carriage to make its way back again. He had been so busy kissing Thea that he hadn’t bothered looking at the time, but they couldn’t have in the park more than twenty minutes. For some reason, Fornier was loitering near to Ridings. But why? What was he waiting for? More importantly, why wasn’t he trying to leave the country?
“He must be waiting for news from someone, or funds from his financial backer.”
Rupert nodded at Marcus suggestion and glanced up at the sky as they walked down the back alley toward the main street. He was so lost in his thoughts about the complexity of the investigation and Fornier’s activities that he didn’t realise how much time had passed. He swore as he became aware of the darkness that surrounded them and lengthened his stride. “I should have gone to collect Thea from the dressmakers.” Rupert swore again and began to run, aware that Marcus was in hot pursuit.
They didn’t bother to lock the house up as they left. The stench would alert the neighbours that something was amiss and they would notify the authorities in due course – or not. Whatever, it was irrelevant to the Star Elite, who had the information they needed. The base that Fornier was using was somewhere else and not located at London’s docks.
“Of course, the man could have used the house of a known thief to acquire some funds and a change of clothing that was more befitting the area,” Marcus reasoned as they hailed a carriage and climbed aboard. Rupert rapped out the address of the dressmakers.
“Be quick about it, my good man,” he snapped and slammed the door shut as the carriage lunged into action.
“What do you mean?” He asked once they were settled inside.
“I mean that a dapper, well-to-do nabob like Fornier would not be likely to find employment on one of the ships that leave here each day, even if he did have the requisite skills to pass himself off as a sailor, dressed in the clothes he usually likes to wear. Even he knows that he would have to dress for the occasion. So I think that he has used that house to change clothes and gather his proceeds from the pick-pockets who have worked the area. In exchange, they have been given descriptions of the authorities who are working in the area and have been able to commit their crimes without fear of having their collars felt.”
Rupert remained silent though and didn’t even appear to have heard him.
Marcus studied the worry on his friend’s face and knew that his thoughts had nothing to do with Fornier. Rather than try to engage him in conversation, Marcus lapsed into silence and watched the streets roll past. By the time they arrived at the dressmakers, Rupert’s thoughtful frown had turned into a dark glower. He didn’t wait for the carriage to stop rolling before he opened the door and jumped down.
“Gone? What do you mean she has gone? Where?”
“Well, sir,” Madame Coulieu replied hesitantly as she glanced from the tall, glowering man before her to the dark carriage that waited outside. “She said that she thought you had forgotten to collect her and asked us to hail her a carriage. Strange thing is though, we got a carriage for her but she didn’t use it. We watched it pull up outside, but she made no attempt to climb aboard, she just walked straight by and out onto the main street.”
Rupert felt his blood go cold. “The carriage. Tell me what the carriage looked like.” His voice was crisp and stern and he sensed rather than heard the woman’s assistants gather to stand in the doorway behind her.
“Well, it looked just like that one.” She lifted a hand that visibly trembled and pointed to the carriage Rupert had just climbed out of.
“What did the coachman look like?”
“Pardon?”
“I said; what did the coachman look like?” He clenched his fists against the need to really shake the woman until she told him everything.
“Well, the man had a cloak on, like that one.”
“Did he have anything on his head?”
She frowned and glanced at one of her assistants who nodded and stepped forward rather timidly. “Well, yes, sir, he had a top hat on.”
Rupert stared at her in a minute. “She didn’t get into the carriage?” Everyone shook their heads.
Rupert scowled at the woman. “How long was she here for?”
“About three and a half hours all told sir. We have several dresses we are preparing for her and will have them, and the accessories, delivered to the Ridings address first thing in the morning. I will deliver them personally and do a final fitting to ensure that the lady is happy with our service, sir.”
“Good, send the bill to me directly,” he growled with a scowl. He tried to keep a lid on his impatience as he stalked out of the shop with little more than a nod. He hurried back outside and slammed the carriage door behind him with sufficient force to startle the horse. He took a moment to open the door and give the coachman instructions to Ridings before he slammed the door closed for a second time. As the carriage rumbled away he briefly explained to Marcus what had happened and described Fornier’s coachman’s outfit.
“Did they see which way she went?”
“I can only hope that she had the good sense to head straight home; assuming that she managed to find a bona fide carriage on the main street.”
Neither man spoke of what would happen to her if she hadn’t got that far.
“What do you want to do?”
“Find Thea, and find out what the bloody hell is happening. I think that if we catch sight of Fornier again, we have to keep tabs on him a bit more closely, and move heaven and hell to get that bastard brought to prison, or taken out, whichever comes first.”
“Hugo wants him taken in for questioning,” Marcus replied reasonably. He could understand Rupert’s frustration, especially given that the man’s family had been caught up in the latest escapade, but they still had a job to do and had to remain logical at the very least.
“As long as Fornier is taken off the streets, I don’t care if he has to be carried in a hearse or is dragged in irons.”
The carriage had no sooner rumbled to a stop outside Ridings than Rupert had the door open and jumped down with Marcus close behind. He took the steps to the front door two at a time and burst into the hallway as though the hounds from Hell were nipping at his heels.
What he found there was a sight that would remain with him forever.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There, sitting on the bottom of the stairs, was Thea. She was dirty, covered in scrapes and bruises, her hair was soaking wet, her dress was torn, and tear tracks streaked the dirt on her beautiful face. If that wasn’t bad enough, the fear in her eyes unmanned him.
H
e couldn’t speak as he stalked across the hallway and hauled her into his arms. Just having her there, safe and sound, inside the house was enough. Fornier hadn’t gotten to her. He had no idea just yet of what had happened but at least she was alive.
“God, Thea,” he growled and buried his face into her neck.
Marcus closed the door quietly behind them and went in search of the butler.
Thea stood silent and trembling in his arms. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak and her legs hurt too much to climb the stairs. She was cold, tired and hungry and wished she had never even mentioned leaving the house let alone going shopping. Although she had heard about his work with the Star Elite and had been told it was dangerous work, she had never stopped to consider just what Rupert faced every day.
A shudder swept through her and he realised then just how cold she was. Marcus came back into the hallway and shook his head before he disappeared upstairs.
“Have you seen Argus?” Rupert growled and leaned backward to look into her face.
Thea shook her head and sniffed. He knew that she was going to be really ill if he didn’t get her dry and warm. She didn’t make a sound when he swept her off her feet and stalked into the sitting room where a fire was already lit. He placed her gently in the high back winged chair and settled a blanket over her shoulders before he squatted down before her so that he could see into her face. He tenderly lifted several sodden strands of hair off her face and tucked them carefully behind her dirty ear.
“I am sorry that I didn’t come back for you as I promised I would Thea,” he murmured gently and captured her gaze with his. When he was assured that she was listening to him and understanding what he was saying, he stroked a finger down her pale cheek. “I was following a lead someone gave one of the men. It’s a house we think Fornier has been using.” He made a mental note to have a word with the men who should have been following the coach and find out where the hell they were, and why they hadn’t intervened in the attempted abduction. “Can you tell me what happened?”
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