by Laurel McKee
“Anna? Caroline?” she cried anxiously. She stepped into the room and heard the grind of broken glass under her shoe.
In one frantic instant, she took in the terrible scene. The shattered, open window. The empty, rumpled bed. And, in the middle of the mattress, a dagger hilt standing straight up.
Katherine stumbled forward to find the blade pinned to a note. By the moonlight from the open window, she read the scrawled words.
If Adair wants his whore back, tell him to come get her. The Dowling wool warehouse by the river, midnight. Alone. Or she dies.
“How long have they been gone?” Conlan said as he stared down at the torn note. He kept his voice quiet and his demeanor still and calm for the sake of Lady Killinan. For his own sake, too—the heat of his fury would surely blind him and make him reckless when he most needed to be calculating to get Anna back.
But someone would pay for this. Painfully.
Lady Killinan shook her head. She sat at the end of Anna’s bed, cradling one of her daughter’s shawls in her arms. She looked white and stricken. Her face, so much like Anna’s, was streaked with tears. “I’m not sure. I returned from my charity meeting less than an hour ago, and the butler said they had been in here perhaps two hours.”
Three hours. It was possible Anna had been gone for three whole hours. Conlan glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. It was almost three hours until midnight.
Anna’s maid stood in the doorway wailing, pressing her apron to her face. It was the only sound beyond the ticking of the clock and the lashing of the freezing rain outside. Someone had tacked muslin over the broken panes, but it did nothing to keep out the biting cold.
“And no one saw anything?” he said.
“Nothing,” Lady Killinan answered. “The butler was at the market, and everyone else was below stairs. This house is large, and there was no one to hear when—when the villains broke the window and took them.”
“They came up the ivy vines over the portico?”
“Yes. I did intend to order them cut back, but I kept forgetting, and…” Her words broke on a raw sob, and she clutched at the shawl. “It was my fault. I am their mother, and I was not here to protect them. I knew something was wrong, that Anna was hiding something from me, and I did nothing. I waited for her to come to me.”
“No, Lady Killinan, no,” Conlan protested. He knelt beside her and took her trembling hand in his. “If anyone is at fault, it is me. I should have sent her away, forgotten her.”
She raised her reddened eyes to his face. “How could you have done so? You’re in love with her.”
“Yes,” he said, shocked by the way the stark truth of those words hit him. Of course, he loved Anna, beautiful, fiery, softhearted Anna. He had loved her since she knocked him unconscious in that ruined stable.
And look where his love got her. Kidnapped from her own home and in terrible danger.
“I will find them, Lady Killinan,” he said. “I will find them and bring them back to you, and whoever did this will pay.” He would die himself rather than let any more harm come to her or her family.
Lady Killinan stared into his eyes for a long moment. He had never seen anguish like that before. “I know you will. And I will help you.”
There was the sound of running footsteps on the stairs. Nicolas Courtois burst past the sobbing maid as the butler shouted, “You can’t go in there! Come back this minute, Mr. Courtois! Oh, what is this world coming to?”
Nicolas ignored all of that and ignored Conlan, too. His attention was all on Lady Killinan.
“Katherine,” he said hoarsely. He held out his arms, and much to Conlan’s shock, she ran into them and buried her face in his coat. Their golden heads bent close together. “Ma belle, I’m so sorry.”
“They’re gone, Nicolas,” she said, and the racking sobs she had held back came pouring forth. “I wasn’t watching them, and they’re gone.”
“I know, I heard,” Nicolas said. He held Lady Killinan tightly and smoothed her hair with unbearable tenderness. “But we will find them. They will be safe in your arms before sunrise.”
He kissed the top of her head, and Conlan feared his old friend looked at Lady Killinan as he himself looked at Anna—as if the world began and ended in her eyes.
But there was no time to worry about that now. First they had to find the Blacknall women and destroy whoever dared take them.
Lady Killinan stepped back from Nicolas, wiping at her eyes. “But—how did you know, Nicolas? How did you get here so quickly?”
Nicolas’s gaze met Conlan’s over her blond head, and Conlan said, “I sent for him.”
Lady Killinan looked back at him, her expression puzzled. She did look so much like Anna. “You sent for Nicolas?”
“Yes, ma belle,” said Nicolas. “You see, we are old friends, the duke and I. My mother worked as a seamstress for his mother when we came here from Paris, and they became friends. Conlan and I did, too.”
“And now he sometimes helps me,” said Conlan.
Lady Killinan frowned. “Helps you how? I do not understand.”
“There isn’t much time to explain,” said Conlan. “I have been working to see that the Act of Union is not passed.”
“Yes,” she said wryly. “I have noticed something of that.”
“Nicolas sometimes hears information of interest in his work,” Conlan said. “That’s all.”
She swung around to glare at Nicolas. “And were you spying on us, too?”
“Of course not, Katherine,” Nicolas protested.
“I suppose we never did anything of interest. But you are right, Adair—there is no time for explanations now.” She snatched the ransom note from his hands. “It is growing late. We need a plan.”
“I already have one, such as it is.” Conlan firmly shut the door on the sobbing maid. “Listen to me closely, for time grows short.…”
The warehouse looked dark and abandoned under the thick, cold clouds. The icy wind off the river lashed at the small, blank windows.
Conlan studied the building carefully, watching for any hint of movement or noise, searching for vulnerable points. The owner was clearly more careful than Lord Ross, whose house had burned in the riot. The lower level windows were bricked up and the doors were bound in iron and closed off with gates. A fence surrounded it, with one of those gates opening to the river in the back where the boats would be loaded.
But suddenly, there was a flash of light in one of the upper windows, a flare as if from a candle, then it was gone.
Conlan crept away from his watching post, back to where Nicolas waited behind one of the other riverbank warehouses. Two other men were with him.
“They are there?” Nicolas asked quietly.
“I think so. They have certainly chosen a secure prison.”
“What should we do now?”
“What the note said—wait until midnight and then go in.”
“You cannot go in alone!” Nicolas protested again.
“I have to give the convincing appearance of being alone, or they will kill Anna and her sister,” Conlan reminded him. “So you must go back to Henrietta Street and keep an eye on matters there. I set McMann to watch the house, and Lady Killinan will send word through him if anything occurs. It seems as if she might need you right now, though.”
Nicolas’s jaw tightened. “Not now. She thinks I spied on her and her daughters.”
Conlan remembered how she clung to Nicolas. “No. She needs you. And I need you to look after her until we bring Anna and Caroline to her.” He didn’t know what state they would be in when that happened. Lady Killinan would need all her strength—and so would he.
Nicolas nodded and hurried off into the night. Conlan sent the other two men to their posts and crept around to the back of the massive warehouse. The brief light had vanished, and all was dark again. He scaled the fence by the light of the faint stars, leaping over it to land on the other side. Stout crates full of processed wool were read
y to ship and stacked against the brick walls, perfect to use as a ladder to the upper windows.
Conlan started climbing in grim, focused determination.
Chapter Twenty-six
Anna? Anna, wake up! Please, please, wake up.”
Anna slowly crawled up through a dark, thick cloud. It pressed down on her, as if to drag her back to the depths of unconsciousness, but she struggled against it. It was comfortable there in the blackness, soothing, yet she felt that there was something urgent she had to find. Something just beyond her weak grasp. That voice pulled her upward.
Painfully, she pried open her eyes. Candlelight pierced her brain, so faint yet so bright. Her head pounded.
“What is happening?” she said. Her voice sounded rough and raspy.
“Oh, thank God! You’re alive.” Caroline’s face slowly swam into view above her. Her dark hair fell in tangles over her shoulders, and her cheeks were smeared with dirt. A purple bruise marred one cheekbone. “I was so frightened.”
Anna found that her head rested on Caroline’s lap, and they were on a hardwood floor. It was very cold, and they wore only their muslin gowns, no shawls or shoes. And the only light was one candle stub, propped on a crate next to Caroline.
Then everything came flooding back in her mind. The men breaking into her chamber, the shattered glass, the screams and ropes. They had been kidnapped, right from their own home.
Anna sat up too fast, wincing as more pain rushed through her head like tiny, stabbing blades. “Where are we? Are you hurt, Caro? Did they…”
“No, no,” Caroline said quickly. “Nothing like that. They just tied me up and gagged me, muffled me in an old, smelly blanket, and brought us here in a closed carriage.” She shivered. “I wish they had left us that blanket.”
“Where is here?”
“A warehouse of some sort. Near the river, I think. I could hear water as they lifted me out of the carriage.”
“Did they say what they wanted?”
“No, nothing. They just shoved us in here, untied us, and left. It feels as if it’s been hours, but I know it can’t be.” A rough sob escaped her lips. “Oh, Anna, I thought you would die, and there was nothing I could do about it!”
“Shh, it’s all right. I’m perfectly fine.” Anna gathered her sister close and kissed her unbruised cheek. The sight of that wound filled her with so much horror and anger that she couldn’t bear it. “I’m sure it’s just some clumsy attempt at ransom. Have you looked for an escape route?”
Caroline shook her head. “I was too worried about you.”
Anna pushed herself to her feet, swaying as a dizzy nausea flowed down from the bump on her head. She shoved that away and carefully examined their prison.
It was a big, stark room filled with crates, all piled up to the bare rafters. The only windows were long, narrow slits set up high, too small to squeeze through, even for someone as thin as Caroline.
She pried open one of the crates and peeked inside. Bundles of raw wool. Not very helpful for effecting an escape. At least they could sit on them while they waited.
Waited for what she didn’t even want to contemplate.
“I wish I still had that pistol Jane gave me,” she murmured as she heaved out the greasy bundles.
“You can’t shoot them if they don’t come back,” Caroline said.
“They’ll be back.”
“Do you think all they want is money? Or is there more to it than that?”
“I don’t know,” Anna said. They rolled the wool closer to their one precious candle and sat down on the bundles, close together to stay warm and find courage. “I suppose it could have been something to do with the Union or politics, but I don’t know what exactly.”
“Maybe it’s the duke they’re after.”
“Yes,” Anna said. “Well, if it is, I hope he stays far away.”
“I seriously doubt he would do that when you are in danger.”
Anna feared Caroline was right. Surely by now their disappearance was discovered. If their mother sent for Conlan…
She shook her head hard, trying to keep fear at bay. She looked around for a door and found it in one corner, a large double entrance big enough for carrying out crates. There was also a smaller door that seemed to lead to a chute. When she and Caroline tested them, they found them predictably locked, and no amount of pounding could dislodge them.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t make so much noise,” Caroline said as she hammered at the thick wood with a crate lid. “They might come back and be even more angry.”
“You’re quite right. It’s not working, anyway.” Anna collapsed to the floor, staring up at their prison door. “If they were to come back, they would have to come through here, right?”
“I suppose.”
“Then I have an idea.”
Caroline peered at Anna warily through her tangled hair. “What sort of idea?”
“Well, surely anything is better than just sitting here waiting for our fate like a pair of ninnys! Help me unroll that wool and bring it over here.”
“Oh!” Caroline’s eyes widened with sudden excitement. “I see.”
They ran over to drag the spools of wool back to the doors and spun the cobweb-like fibers across the threshold. “If we can bind them up in it, we’ll have an instant to hit them over the heads with the crates and then run,” Anna said.
And if it did not work—the scoundrels would probably kill them. But maybe at least Caroline could get away, if Anna created enough theatrics. She was good at that.
Once they were finished with their task, Caroline crouched by the wall with her crate lid, and Anna started pounding on the door again. She had nearly bloodied her hands by the time they finally heard footsteps, and the metallic grind of a lock sliding back. As she stumbled backward, the door flew open, and a burly man in a rough brown coat appeared there.
He did not look happy as he stalked into the room, closer to the wool. From the smell, Anna deduced they interrupted him drinking gin and eating onions.
“Here, wot’s going on?” he said. “You two had best quiet down!”
“Now!” Anna shouted. Caroline brought the lid crashing over his head, and he collapsed heavily to the floor, entangled in their web of wool.
Anna grabbed Caroline’s hand, and they ran out of the room. They were halfway down the stairs when a man appeared at the bottom. She couldn’t see his face, as he was illuminated from behind by a lamp, but he was no rough bully. He was tall and lean, clad in a finely tailored dark coat and well-tied cravat.
In two steps, the tall man was upon them, catching Caroline around the waist and lifting her from her feet. Her hand was torn from Anna’s.
Anna screamed as Caroline kicked and twisted. The man just tossed her over his shoulder as if she were another bundle of wool and threw out his arm to block Anna’s way.
“Why did you take them both?” he said, his voice filled with cold fury.
And Anna heard with shock that it was Grant Dunmore. Elegant, gorgeous, charming Grant, now a street brawler and a kidnapper?
“You,” she gasped. He just stared down at her in the shadows, holding on to the wriggling Caroline.
Another man appeared behind him. He held the lamp in one hand and a bottle in the other. It was George Hayes, their mother’s cousin.
“They were both there when the hired men broke in,” George said. “What else could they do? Leave Caroline to sound the alarm? Kill her?”
“Maybe if you hadn’t hired such incompetents, this wouldn’t have happened,” Grant said tightly. He slapped Caroline across the bottom. “Be still!”
“How dare you!” Caroline shouted. She pulled at Grant’s hair.
“Those men worked cheap. That’s the important thing,” George said, sounding infuriatingly amused. “Once Adair takes the bait, we can let them go with no harm done. Except to your pretty hair, it seems, Dunmore.”
With a shriek of fury, Anna lunged at Grant. “You bastard! I won’t let
you hurt Conlan.”
Grant caught her with his free arm and pushed her down the stairs toward George. “Blast it, George, take this one. I can’t handle them both.”
George dropped the bottle, which didn’t break but scattered drops of wine everywhere, and grabbed Anna before she could fall. Like the ruffian upstairs, he stank of liquor and onions, and his teeth were stained wine-red as he leered at her.
“I told you the Blacknall girls were little hellions,” he said with an unpleasant laugh. “I’ve had my eye on this one for a long time.”
Anna spit at him, and he slapped her across the face. Her head snapped back, stars whirling in her brain, but he had to let go of her for that blow. She ran, yet only got two steps before he caught her again.
“That was not a good idea, lovely Anna,” he said.
“Lock her in that closet,” Grant said. “I’ll take care of Lady Caroline.”
“Gladly,” George said, dragging Anna against his body. Disgustingly, she could feel his erection pressed to her hip. Rather than filling her with fear, making her remember that would-be rapist solider, it made her even more angry. She was consumed with fury; it blotted out all else.
“And leave her alone,” Grant said. His voice rang with unmistakable authority. “Adair is the goal here, remember.”
George scowled, but he nodded. He was a weak man at base, used to taking instructions from those who were stronger. He took her arm in a bruising clasp and hauled her along a narrow corridor. “You spilled my wine, you little bitch,” he muttered in her ear. “You’ll pay for that.”
He shoved her into a cupboard set in the wall and slammed the door after her, turning the key in the lock. She was utterly alone, closed in darkness and silence except for a small, steady drip of water. And the pattering of what sounded horribly like rats’ feet.
Anna leaned back against the damp wall and wrapped her arms tightly around herself to ward off panic. She did hate the dark, but even worse was the worry about Conlan and her sister. Above her head, she heard a scraping noise, a crash, then all was quiet again.
She closed her eyes and remembered the night that Conlan took her to the tavern. She thought of the music, the dancing, and the light, and held them to her heart fiercely.