by Beers, Laura
“Where was Oliver during this time?”
“Oliver was doing what he did best,” she said, her voice taking on an edge. “He was chasing after women and gambling.”
“May I ask why you hold so much resentment for Oliver?”
Jane pursed her lips. “That is a fair question,” she said. “I suppose I feel some anger that I was forced to grow up, but he never has.”
“You have no control over Oliver.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Then why not let him make his own mistakes?”
Jane let out a sigh. “You are right, of course, but that is easier said than done, especially since he is treating Emmeline so horribly.”
“Has Emmeline complained to you?”
“No, she has only been supportive of Oliver,” she shared. “It is rather irksome.”
Corbyn gave her a knowing look. “If Emmeline is not bothered by Oliver’s antics, then why should you be?”
“Because, frankly, I am tired of all the lies and secrets.”
“Meaning?”
“It is not just Oliver who is harboring secrets, but Baldwin, as well,” she said. “Baldwin was very vague as to where he was for three years.”
“Did he tell you where he was?”
“Yes, he spent some time at our Scottish estate and on Jersey Island.”
“He told you that?”
She frowned. “But why was Baldwin on Jersey Island in the first place?” she asked. “We were at war with Napoleon, and Jersey Island is awfully close to France.”
“I cannot speak for him.”
“I’m not a simpleton,” Jane said. “I know my brothers are hiding secrets from me, and it’s rather vexing.”
“Perhaps they are protecting you?”
“From what?” Jane asked, tossing her hands up in the air. “After all, I am not a little girl anymore.”
Before Corbyn could respond, the coach came to a stop in front of Hawthorne House. He exited first and then assisted Jane out. Lord Brinton’s curricle was parked in the courtyard, as well. He started leading her towards the main door when it was suddenly thrown open and Baldwin ran out to meet them.
“You are alive!” Baldwin exclaimed, the relief evident on his face.
“I am,” Jane confirmed.
Baldwin stepped forward and embraced her warmly. “I was so worried,” he said, taking a step back. “Percy informed us that you were abducted, but he hadn’t even bothered to seek out a constable before he arrived.” His voice dripping disapproval.
“I doubt that would have made a difference,” Jane said. “I was fortunate that Lord Evan was in Hyde Park and saved me from my abductor.”
Baldwin shifted his gaze towards Corbyn. “For which I am most grateful.” Then he offered his arm, and Jane accepted it. “Come, Mother will be relieved to see you.”
Corbyn followed them inside and saw the dowager marchioness rushing towards her daughter. “I am so happy to see you!” she declared as she embraced her daughter.
Lord Brinton stood back from the group, fiddling with the black top hat in his hands, a relieved look on his face.
The dowager marchioness stepped back. “Would you care for some refreshment?”
“No, thank you,” Jane replied, “but I would like a long soak.”
“That can be arranged,” the dowager marchioness said. “If you will excuse me, I shall see to that at once.”
Jane turned her head towards Corbyn and offered him a private smile, which he found oddly charming.
Lord Brinton stepped forward. “I am pleased beyond words that you have returned home.”
“As am I,” she replied.
“No thanks to you,” Baldwin muttered under his breath.
“May I ask how you escaped your abductor?” Lord Brinton asked.
“As I was being led further into the woodlands, Lord Evan stopped the man from abducting me,” Jane revealed.
“By himself?” Lord Brinton questioned.
Corbyn spoke up. “I was meeting with a Bow Street Runner on an unrelated matter, and he assisted me in saving Lady Jane.”
“How fortunate,” Lord Brinton said, his voice growing emotional as he faced Jane. “I have never been so scared as when I saw that man pointing a pistol at you. After you were abducted, I rushed back to Hawthorne House to inform your brother of what had happened.
“I was just about to depart for Hyde Park when Corbyn’s coach pulled up,” Baldwin added.
Jane gave him a curious look. “May I ask why you didn’t seek out a constable straight away?”
“I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking clearly,” Lord Brinton said. “Please forgive me.”
With a slight hesitation in her voice, she replied, “You are forgiven.”
Lord Brinton took a step closer to Jane, his eyes never straying from hers. “Now that I have seen you are alive and well, I can rest much easier.”
Jane smiled at him, and it felt like a stab to Corbyn’s heart. “As you can see, I am no worse for wear,” she responded reassuringly.
“So it seems,” Lord Brinton replied, smiling in return. “Perhaps I can call on you tomorrow?”
“I would be delighted,” Jane said.
Lord Brinton smiled. “Then tomorrow it is.” He nodded to Baldwin and Corbyn. “Good day, gentlemen.”
After Lord Brinton departed, Baldwin turned towards his sister, his eyes alert. “Did your abductor say anything to you?”
Jane met his gaze. “The only thing he said was that he had his reasons for abducting me.”
“Which were?” Baldwin pressed.
“He didn’t say.”
Baldwin frowned. “This is all very disconcerting.”
The dowager marchioness stepped back into the entry hall and announced, “Your bath is being prepared, my dear.”
Jane perked up. “Wonderful.”
“I’ll escort you up to your bedchamber,” the dowager marchioness said.
“Did you kill the abductor?” Baldwin asked in a low voice as they watched the ladies walk up the stairs.
“I did not,” Corbyn replied just as quietly. “He ran away when we confronted him, and the Bow Street Runner chased after him. With any luck, he is in prison now.”
“I hope so,” Baldwin said, his jaw locked. “I do not take kindly to someone trying to hurt my sister.”
“Neither do I.”
Baldwin turned to face him. “Do you have any idea as to why someone wished to abduct Jane?”
“I do not.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“But it can’t be a coincidence.”
“I would agree with you.”
Corbyn ran a hand through his brown hair. “I will get to the bottom of this.”
Baldwin tipped his head. “See that you do.”
“I trust that you will keep Jane safe as I investigate this mess.”
“I will, make no mistake of that.”
Corbyn walked down the cobbled streets as he headed towards the jail. Up ahead, he saw Stewart leaning against the large iron fence in front of the stone prison. The Bow Street Runner was a stocky man, and his clothing did little to hide his muscular physique.
Stewart straightened from the wall when he saw Corbyn approaching. “I see that you got my note.”
“I did,” he replied, “and I must admit that I am pleasantly surprised you caught the man.”
Stewart lifted his brow. “And why is that?”
“Because I generally have a low opinion of Runners.”
“We don’t like being called that, you know.”
“I am well aware.”
Stewart frowned. “I thought you might want to hear what John Hester had to say for himself in regard to the abduction.”
“I appreciate that.”
Stewart huffed. “You will find that not all Bow Street Runners are incompetent.”
“No, some of you set traps for schoolboys who pose no threat to the Crown so you can collect blood money,�
�� Corbyn remarked dryly.
“I am not going to apologize for doing my job.”
“Neither am I.”
Stewart gestured towards a guard, indicating that he should open the gate. “You are making me regret this professional courtesy.”
Corbyn sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “I apologize for antagonizing you, but not for my opinions of Bow Street Runners.”
As they stepped through the gate, Stewart glanced over at him. “May I ask why you hold us in disregard?”
“I have seen you botch one too many jobs for my liking,” he explained as they walked through the muddy courtyard.
“I don’t botch assignments.”
“No, but some of your counterparts do,” he said. “Two years ago, I was working with a Bow Street Runner, and a young girl was killed because of his incompetence.”
“What happened?”
“We were to apprehend a suspect at a pub, but the Runner showed up drunk,” Corbyn revealed. “I decided to go in myself, but the suspect saw me coming and bolted out the back door. The Runner saw him running down the street and pulled out his pistol. Unfortunately, when he fired, he hit a young girl who was walking along the street.”
“That is awful, but not a reflection of all Bow Street Runners.”
A guard held up his hand as they approached, and they came to a stop in front of him. “What prisoner are you here to see?” he asked.
Stewart spoke up. “John Hester.”
“Follow me,” the guard said as he opened the door.
They followed him through a dark, dank hall. The guard stopped in front of a small, cramped cell that had at least ten people sitting in it. “I’m looking for Hester,” he announced.
“I’m Hester,” a man said as he rose from against the back wall.
The guard pointed at them. “These men want to talk to you.”
Hester walked over to the iron bars and rested his hands on them. “Will you get me out of here if I tell you what you want to hear?”
Stewart shook his head. “You attempted to abduct the daughter of a marquess,” he said. “There are severe repercussions for that. Frankly, I am surprised you are not in irons.”
“I paid the guards what I had on me,” Hester admitted. “That is the only reason I’m not.”
“Why don’t you tell this man what you told me earlier?” Stewart prodded.
Hester nodded. “I was approached by a man who offered to pay me ten pounds to abduct Lady Jane. I staked out Hawthorne House and followed the curricle to Hyde Park. It was easy to abduct her from that dandy she was with.”
“What were you supposed to do with her?” Corbyn asked.
“I was to deliver her to a warehouse in the rookeries,” Hester said. “It was an abandoned, brown brick building on Traeger Street.”
“Did he pay you up front?”
“He did,” Hester replied. “He paid me with two-pound notes, but I later found out they were forged.”
“They were?” Corbyn asked. “How did you discover that?”
“I spilled my drink and the ink washed off, revealing a one-pound note,” Hester revealed. “I did the same to the other bills and discovered the same thing.”
“What did you do with the banknotes?”
Hester shrugged. “I used them to pay off the guards,” he confessed.
“Can you tell me anything about the man who hired you?”
Hester grew serious. “He was tall and had a scar that ran from his right cheek down to his neck,” he shared.
Corbyn stepped closer to the cell. “What did the scar look like?”
“It was an old scar,” Hester revealed, “and it looked gnarled.”
“Can you tell me anything more about the man?”
Hester didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, he said, “His eyes were cold and bleak. They almost appeared grey in color.”
Corbyn reared back as he found himself unable to formulate any words. What Hester was saying was impossible. There was no way Adam Kerley was still alive. He had seen his dead body in the streets of France.
“What’s wrong?” Stewart asked, eyeing him with concern.
“Hester is describing someone I used to know.” Corbyn placed his hand on the iron bar and asked, “Did he say what his name was?”
Hester shook his head. “No, and I didn’t ask.”
“And are you positive that he had a scar on the right side of his face?”
“I am,” Hester said.
Corbyn dropped his hand and stepped back. He needed some air, and he was tired of breathing in the stench of unwashed bodies. Not waiting for Stewart or the guard, he walked down the hall and exited the main door.
He put his hands on the back of his head and took a deep breath. It had to be a mistake. There was no way that Kerley was alive. If he was, he had left him behind to deal with the enemy alone. This had to be a misunderstanding.
But Kerley not only had a long scar on his face, but his eyes had a grey hue to them. It couldn’t be a coincidence; he was sure of it.
“Are you all right?” Stewart asked as he came to stand next to him.
“No,” he replied, “but I will be.”
Stewart extended him a folded piece of paper. “Hester was supposed to give this to you after he delivered Lady Jane to the man in the rookeries.”
Corbyn unfolded the note.
You took away my life, so I took away yours.
He read the note over and over before he slipped it into the pocket of his waistcoat. How did Kerley know that he held any affection for Jane? He had always been so careful not to show her any favor when they were in public. He began to wonder how long Kerley had been following him.
His eyes scanned the courtyard. Was Kerley watching him now?
Stewart’s next words broke him out of his reverie. “The building that Hester mentioned isn’t far from here,” he said. “Would you care to go investigate it?”
“I would.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Stewart said as he started across the courtyard.
“Do you believe Hester?” Stewart asked, glancing over at him.
“I do.”
“After Hester mentioned this man, your demeanor changed,” Stewart commented. “Who is he?”
“He was a man I once worked with at the Alien Office,” Corbyn replied.
“If that’s the case, then why did he target Lady Jane?”
“He is under the impression that I have feelings for her,” Corbyn shared.
“And do you?”
Corbyn frowned. “Are you always this much of a busybody?”
“I am when I’m still deciding if I can trust you on this case.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“Do you trust me?” Stewart asked with a knowing look.
Corbyn shook his head. “I do not,” he admitted, “but that is because you are a blasted Bow Street Runner.”
Stewart chuckled. “I see that your opinions are not easily swayed.”
“They are not.”
“We are almost there,” Stewart said, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “I was told that I can trust you.”
“You can,” Corbyn asserted.
“I am pleased to hear that.” Stewart came to a stop in front of a dilapidated brown brick building with boarded up windows. “This is it.”
“It isn’t much.”
“No, it’s not,” Stewart agreed.
They walked up the steps to the main door and Corbyn opened it. As he pulled the door back, the hinges groaned in protest and it dragged along the floor.
Corbyn retrieved his pistol and stepped into the dark hall. Except for the sound of rats scurrying across the floor in the distance, it was eerily quiet. They continued further into the building and saw an empty table in the center of a room with four chairs surrounding it.
“Whoever was here is long gone,” Stewart said dejectedly.
Corbyn walked over to the table and ran his finger along it. �
��I disagree. Someone spilled ink on the table,” he revealed, holding up his black finger, “and it hasn’t dried yet.”
“Blazes!” Stewart exclaimed. “We must have just missed them.”
Corbyn cleaned his finger with a handkerchief. “We need to discover where they moved their operation to.”
“That is assuming they haven’t stopped forging banknotes.”
“In my experience, criminals never stop until they are caught,” Corbyn shared. “Instead, they get cocky and make a mistake.”
“Where do you propose we start looking?”
Corbyn tucked his pistol back into the waistband of his trousers. “I will speak to my informants and see if I can find a lead.”
“I will speak to mine, as well.” Stewart watched him closely, then asked, “Who do you believe is behind this operation?”
“If what Hester said was true, a man named Adam Kerley,” Corbyn said. “But that is impossible.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I watched him die in France nearly three years ago.”
“Perhaps he didn’t die, and he is seeking revenge on you for leaving him behind.”
Corbyn ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s hope not.”
“Why not?”
“If he is alive, then no one is safe.”
Chapter Eleven
“Will there be anything else, milady?”
Jane shook her head as she sat on the settee near the hearth. “No, thank you.”
Her lady’s maid walked over to the dressing table and started organizing it. “I still can’t believe someone attempted to abduct you in Hyde Park,” Susan said, speaking over her shoulder. “It was most fortunate that Lord Evan was there to save you.”
“It was,” she agreed.
“Lord Evan has saved you twice now,” Susan commented.
“That he has.”
A playful smile came to Susan’s lips. “I daresay, he is your knight in shining armor.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I am grateful for his assistance.”
“Lord Evan is remarkably handsome.”
“He is.”
Susan looked at her in surprise. “You admit it?”
Jane gave a half-shrug. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked. “It is evident to anyone who has eyes that Lord Evan is handsome and charming.”