Three Weeks with a Princess

by Vanessa Kelly

  Lia waited while Amy fetched her cloak and bonnet, and then they took the stairs down to the back door and to the alley behind the building. Sammy, the boy who watched the stage door on the days the theater was dark, scrambled down from his stool to let them out. He was an engaging scamp, not much more than ten, and had a large mop of curly hair and a grimy but friendly face.

  Sammy was also a good deal more reliable than the regular doorman because he was apparently immune to taking bribes from overly bold gentlemen wishing to get backstage. He took his duties very seriously and always responded to requests from company members with alacrity.

  “Evenin’, Miss Lia, Miss Amy,” he said, holding open the door for them. “It’s lookin’ stormy out there, so you best trot on home as quick as you can.”

  Amy gave his cheek an affectionate pat. “Thank you, my lad. We’ll be sure to do that.”

  “Your face is ever so much better,” he said in an earnest tone. “I’d like to kill the bastard that done hurt you, I would.”

  “I wish you could,” Amy said. “Lord knows he deserves it.”

  Lia shot her a quelling glance before addressing the boy. “That’s a noble sentiment, Sammy, but I think we’d best leave that sort of thing up to the authorities.”

  Sammy snorted his disdain. “Then we’ll be waitin’ forever. The swells never get their due when it comes to hurtin’ regular folks like us.”

  That one so young had such a cynical—and accurate—view of the world made her want to weep. “I’m afraid that’s too often true. But in this case, I’m confident the villain received his just due.”

  Jack had been vague on the details of Prudhoe’s punishment after discussing the situation with Dominic and Leverton, but he’d assured Lia that he had everything well in hand and that she was not to worry about it. She’d been annoyed at his well-intentioned but condescending attitude, but she understood that men didn’t like to discuss these matters with ladies, thinking them too tenderhearted or softheaded to deal with such unpleasantness. It was a ridiculous assertion for anyone to make, especially if they knew her cousin Gillian.

  “I hope they got him good for hurtin’ you, Miss Amy,” he said. “But you come tell me if he ever bothers you again. I’ll give him a bit of home-brewed.”

  “I will be sure to do that.” Amy’s tone was solemn, but her eyes twinkled with laughter. It was wonderful to see her sunny disposition coming back to life.

  “Don’t forget to lock the door behind us, Sammy,” Lia said as she followed Amy down the steps to the cobblestones.

  “No fear, miss. I’ll keep everything right and tight.”

  They set off down the long alley between the theater and the warehouse next door, heading toward the street. Dark clouds roiled overhead, casting a premature dusk. A gust of wind forced their heads down as they clutched their bonnets.

  “Goodness, we’ll be lucky to get home before it rains,” Lia said.

  Amy glanced up, but then her gaze darted ahead to the end of the alley, some yards ahead. “Why is that coach parked like that in the alleyway? We’ll never get around it.”

  A large black carriage blocked their way. Two big men—hulking might be a better description—lounged against the wheels, both smoking pipes. They affected a casual stance, but their caps were pushed low over their faces and they radiated a strange air of menace. One of them looked up to meet Lia’s gaze with a hard stare before knocking his pipe against the wheel of the carriage and shoving it in his pocket. The other man straightened as well, his attention focused on them.

  Lia pulled Amy to a halt. “We’d best go back to the theater.”

  The dancer gave a tense nod and they reversed their steps, only to immediately hear the pounding of heavy footsteps behind them. Not looking back, they picked up their skirts and ran.

  They almost made it. Amy had reached the set of stairs at the back of the theater and Lia was just behind her when she felt the rush of movement and a long, burly arm wrapped around her waist. She let out a shriek and started to kick like mad, flailing her arms in a futile attempt to break free. The man ripped off her bonnet and dug his fingers into her topknot, then yanked her head back so hard it felt as if her neck was going to snap.

  Amy launched herself back down the steps. “Leave her alone, you brute!”

  She started pummeling Lia’s captor but was snatched up by the second thug. He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her right off her feet. Amy clawed at his hands, her eyes wide with panic. He plowed a fist into her chin and her eyes rolled back as she collapsed onto the stairs.

  “No,” Lia gasped out. Fear and rage lent her strength and she slammed her bootheel into her captor’s shin. He let out a vile curse and she felt his grasp start to slip. But when she tried to wriggle free, he tightened his grip and pulled her around to face him.

  She stared into his flat, pockmarked features. His breath, hot and smelling of sour beer, made her gorge rise in her throat.

  “Help,” she cried out. She thrashed and managed another strangled shriek, trying to make as much noise as she could.

  “Shut up, you silly bitch,” the man said in a cold, calm voice. He gave her a vicious slap, so hard that stars burst across her vision. A rank-smelling hood came down over her head, enveloping her in blackness. Lia was barely able to suck in a breath before he lifted her and threw her over his shoulder, knocking the wind from her lungs.

  Struggling to breathe, her hold on consciousness slid away.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Lia jerked as the hood was yanked from her head. Blinking frantically, she struggled to focus against the harsh glare of a nearby lamp. Although she’d been hazy for a few minutes, thanks to the nasty blow to her face, she guessed that only a short time had passed since their abduction. Thrown onto the floor of the carriage, she’d huddled against Amy and done her best to fight a choking sense of terror.

  At one point she’d nudged her hood up to take in her surroundings, only to earn another slap to the back of her head. After that—and after her ears stopped ringing—she simply listened, straining for clues to their route. Unfortunately, the rumble of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones blunted her hearing.

  Their captors had remained silent for the entire ride. Amy had put on a good show of defiance, but that had simply resulted in a kick to her ribs. After that, they’d both held their tongues, even when the men dragged them from the carriage and hauled them to this room.

  Her blurred vision finally resolved into hard reality. She and Amy were seated side by side on rickety chairs in some sort of parlor. The furnishings were shabby but respectable enough, and the woman sitting across from Lia was dressed rather like a housekeeper in a neat gray gown and a lace cap. But most housekeepers didn’t sport blazing red, elaborately curled hair and heavily rouged cheeks. Nor did they usually participate in kidnappings.

  Lia’s temper flared when the woman smirked at her. “I don’t know who you are, but I demand that you release us this—”

  Amy’s shocked exclamation cut her off. “Bloody hell. It’s him, Miss Lia. He’s done it, the bastard.”

  Lia’s stomach lurched when she saw who stood on the other side of the room, casually leaning against the doorframe and looking as natty as if he were about to attend a ball. Clamping down hard, she forced back a sickening wave of fear. “Sir Nathan, are you responsible for this outrage?”

  The baronet laughed. “Of course I am, you ninny. Although I must admit I didn’t expect to catch you in my net. My darling little Amy was the target. But when I saw you in the alley . . . well, how could I resist?”

  “And a fine catch they are, my lord,” said the woman sitting across from them. “My gentlemen are always looking for something new, even if these dainty morsels are soiled doves.”

  Prudhoe pointed at Lia. “I would imagine this one is barely touched, even though her mother is one of the greatest whores in London.”

  Lia bolted out of her chair. “You listen to me, you degenerate—�
��

  A large hand slammed her back down on the seat, almost toppling her. After she righted herself, she glanced over her shoulder. She’d been so surprised to see Prudhoe that she’d failed to notice one of their abductors standing behind them. The brute gave her a taunting grin, as if daring her to make another move. His expression made it abundantly clear he would relish the opportunity to hurt her again.

  She subsided, trying to think through her terror and rage. They’d almost made it inside the theater, so perhaps Sammy had noticed the commotion and gone outside to check. It was a faint hope, but the only one she had.

  “No point in struggling, love,” said the woman. “We don’t want to have to damage the goods.” Then she glanced at the baronet. “Are you saying this one is a virgin?”

  He shrugged. “I think it’s quite probable, although one can never be entirely sure until one checks for oneself.”

  “You leave her alone,” Amy cried. “She don’t deserve any of this.”

  Prudhoe pushed away from the door and strolled over to the dancer. She shrank against the back of her chair but maintained her defiant gaze as he took her chin in his hand.

  “She deserves exactly what she’s going to get, as do you,” he said. “Thanks to you and Miss Kincaid’s friends, I’m all but ruined. I’ll have my revenge for that.” He let out an ugly laugh. “And some welcome compensation. Double, now, don’t you think, Mrs. Grace?”

  The woman looked perplexed, as if she’d forgotten something. “Perhaps. We’ll have to see what my customers are willing to pay.”

  “Who are you?” Lia asked. “And what in God’s name are you talking about?”

  The woman’s full lips parted into a smug grin. “I’m the owner of this little establishment and you and your friend are going to be the evening’s entertainment.”

  “Do you mean a . . . private theatrical?” Lia cautiously asked, vainly hoping that such would be the case. Though it must be one of a salacious nature, perhaps she and Amy could still negotiate some way out of this.

  “She’s a bawd, Miss Lia,” Amy said in a grim tone. “And this is a brothel.”

  “That’s right,” said Prudhoe. “And we’re going to sell you both to the highest bidders.”

  Lia couldn’t help laughing. “You must be joking.”

  He shoved his face a few inches from hers. “We’re going to sell you off as whores to the highest bidders and make a very pretty penny, I assure you.”

  Her stomach cramped from the stench of his gin-soaked breath and a surge of horror.

  “You’re a dead man if you go through with this,” she said, trying to keep calm. “Lord Lendale will kill you, unless the other men in my family get to you first.”

  “Lendale. You mean the marquess?” Mrs. Grace asked in a suddenly concerned tone.

  Prudhoe straightened. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You have a great deal to worry about,” Lia said. She frowned at Mrs. Grace. “Did he not tell you who I am?”

  The madam threw a wary glance at the baronet. “You said she was an actress, newly arrived in town.” She pointed at Amy. “And this one was a dancer and a whore, so no one would think twice if she went missing.”

  “Which is exactly true,” Prudhoe said through clenched teeth.

  “I’m not an actress,” Lia said. “Although my mother is. She’s Marianne Lester. Surely you’ve heard of her. She’s quite the most popular actress in London—perhaps in all of England.”

  Mrs. Grace went white under her palette of rouge. “What did you say your name is?”

  “Lia Kincaid, of the Notorious Kincaids. So notorious, in fact, that a great many people will notice if I go missing.”

  “Shut your goddamn mouth,” Prudhoe shouted.

  Lia couldn’t entirely suppress a smile as she met the baronet’s infuriated gaze. “Did Sir Nathan also neglect to tell you that I’m betrothed to the Marquess of Lendale? The wedding ceremony is to be held later this week at the Duke of Leverton’s house.” She transferred her focus to the brothel owner, who looked ready to faint with horror. “The Duchess of Leverton is my cousin. Perhaps you’ve heard of her, too.”

  Mrs. Grace seemed to be choking on her own tongue. A few seconds later, she recovered herself, and then all hell broke loose.

  * * *

  Amy touched Lia on the shoulder. “How long do you figure it’s been?”

  Lia shifted on the unforgiving floorboards, trying to find a more comfortable position. Sighing, she gave up and used the wall to push herself to her feet. Her head throbbed and her body ached, but she worried much more about Amy. Dragging them upstairs to this gruesome little bedroom, one of their captors had banged the poor girl’s face on a banister, splitting open the skin above her eyebrow. She was dreadfully pale and had already retched once into a heavy chamber pot Lia found under the bed.

  “Not yet an hour, I think.” Lia grimaced and stretched, trying to relieve the cramped muscles of her back.

  “Miss Lia, you take the chair. You shouldn’t be sitting on the floor.”

  Lia gently pushed her down onto the seat. “I’m fine. Just rest while I try to think of some way out of this mess.”

  “Good luck with that,” Amy said, casting a morose glance around the room.

  Lia had already gone over their prison twice, looking for a weapon or means of escape. Aside from the ratty old bed, its linens so wretched that neither Lia nor Amy would sit on it, there was only the chair, a small battered table, one branch of candles, and the chamber pot. The lack of a window meant no means of escape but for the door, which was locked. They had their wits as their weapons, and so far they’d not had much luck with them either.

  “What do you suppose is going on down there?” Amy asked.

  Lia crouched to peer through the keyhole, seeing only a murky half darkness and a grimy bit of wall opposite their room. She straightened with a sigh. “We can only hope Mrs. Grace is trying to talk some sense into Sir Nathan’s extraordinarily thick head.”

  After Lia had informed everyone that she was Jack’s fiancée, Mrs. Grace had launched into a full-throated tirade, berating Prudhoe for kidnapping quality. Events had quickly deteriorated after that when the madam boxed his ears, all while yelling they could end up facing the gallows.

  In the mayhem Lia had pulled Amy to her feet and tried to escape. They’d made it into the corridor before their guard got his hands on Amy, throwing her face first against the staircase banister. Lia had launched herself at him, but the other thug suddenly had materialized and pulled her away. On the orders of the madam, she and Amy had been hauled off and locked in this room with threats of a beating if they didn’t keep their gobs shut.

  Silence had descended quickly after that. Wherever they were, this section of the building was apparently little used. No one had come near and nothing could be heard through the thick plaster and brick walls of the house. All they could do was wait and pray for a miracle.

  Amy closed her eyes. “They’re not going to let us go.”

  “They’d be insane not to,” Lia replied, trying to sound confident. “Imagine what will happen when Sir Dominic finds out about this. He’s a powerful magistrate, you know. He will see them all hang if they dare to injure us.”

  When Amy opened her eyes, her gaze was terrifyingly bleak. “Which is exactly why they’re going to have to kill us.”

  Lia’s heart jolted. “What?”

  “There’s no backing away from this, Miss Lia. As soon as Mrs. Grace heard who you were, we were done for. Even if Sir Nathan is too stupid to realize how much danger he courted by kidnapping us, she certainly did. She’s a nasty piece of work, that one, and she hasn’t survived this many years by acting the fool.”

  “You know her?”

  Amy’s mouth quivered for a moment before she regained control. “My sister was the prettiest, happiest lass you ever did see. Mrs. Grace lured her into the trade and did everything she could to keep her there, even when my Nancy wanted to
leave.” She grimaced. “She died of the pox a few years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry, my dear,” Lia said quietly.

  “That’s why I worked so hard to become a dancer. I didn’t want to end up like Nancy.” Her gaze was hardening. “I may take a lover now and again to protect myself, but I’d never sell myself to one of these places, Miss Lia. I’d starve before I did that.”

  Lia hunkered down and took her hands. “You won’t have to, I promise. We’re going to get out of this.”

  Amy slumped against the seat back with a weary sigh. “There’s no way out of it, miss. You know too many important people and you’re too important. Lord Lendale and Sir Dominic would go berserk if they found out about this. Mrs. Grace knows that, too. She knows she’d end up hanging at the end of a rope.”

  Lia sat down on the hard floorboards, aghast at the turn of events. She finally had a big, loyal family that loved her and wished to protect her, and that simple fact was probably going to get her killed. She would never see Aunt Chloe or Gillian again, or meet her half brother, who’d already written Lia the most warm and loving letter.

  And Jack. She would give anything to be with him now, to have the chance to tell him that, yes, she would marry him. All the obstacles that had loomed so large were now insignificant. And he would be devastated if she died, blaming himself for not taking care of her, for not being there when she most needed him.

  Lia had wanted to disappear from his life, thinking it best for him. Yet now she was about to get her wish and the irony was all but choking her. It was like being trapped at the bottom of a hill watching a landslide hurtling down on her. Already she felt buried, her chest constricting with panic, and she had to force herself to take one slow breath after another.

  Amy scrubbed away tears from her cheeks. “What they had planned for us before . . . well, it wouldn’t have been pleasant, but at least we would have survived. Now . . .”

  Lia sat quietly for a good minute. Now that she’d calmed down, she could think. “I think we were sunk before actually.”

  “How so?”