“Never mind, Burke, I will take care of this,” Anthony said from the landing of the stairs. He came the rest of the way down the stairs, saying, “I was looking out the window and saw you step out of your carriage.”
When he reached her, his eyes ran over her quickly, and he frowned, reaching out to take her hand. “Eleanor…what is it? You look…distressed.”
He led her into the front drawing room and closed the door behind them, then turned to face her. “Now, tell me, what is the matter?”
“You must think me mad,” she began, feeling suddenly shaky and on the verge of tears in the face of his concern. “I—I came without putting on my hat and gloves. I just ran out of the house.”
“I see that.” He came closer. “What happened?”
“I—someone tried to take Claire!” Eleanor blurted out.
“The little girl who lives with you?” he asked, startled.
She nodded. The terror that she had been trying to keep tamped down was rising in her, threatening to overcome her. “Oh, Anthony…you offered me your help the other day and I turned you down. I am here now asking for it. Will you help me?”
“Of course.” Impulsively, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Eleanor, surprising even herself, leaned against him gratefully, tears welling in her eyes and spilling out. “I am so frightened!”
“Of course you are,” he told her, his hand gently rubbing her back. He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. “Do not worry. We shall take care of it. I promise. Nothing will happen to the children.”
A shaky little sob escaped Eleanor, and she clung to him. It felt so good to be able to be weak for once. She had always been the strong one, the one on whom everyone else relied, the one to whom they came for help. She would have said that she hated to appear weak, that she would have done anything to avoid it, but she found that here in Anthony’s arms, it was a great relief, for once, to have someone else upon whom she could rely.
He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to him. She felt the brush of his lips against her hair. “Eleanor,” he murmured.
She trembled. She wanted to stay in his arms forever, she thought. She wanted to turn up her face to his and feel his lips upon hers again. She wanted to melt into him and let whatever would happen, happen.
Sternly, she straightened and pulled away. This was not the time for such weakness. She should be thinking only of the children, not herself. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and turned to face him.
“We went to Hyde Park. We were going to fly kites.”
Anthony sighed inwardly. He missed the feel of her in his arms. He would have liked to pull her back and hold her again. But clearly Eleanor’s moment of weakness had passed.
He crossed his arms and said matter-of-factly, “Who is ‘we’?”
“The children’s amah, Kerani, and myself. And the children, of course—Claire and Nathan. Kerani and I were a few feet behind them. Suddenly a man rushed up and grabbed Claire. He started to run off with her, but Nathan had the presence of mind to latch onto him long enough that I was able to reach him.”
“And what did you do?” The beginnings of a smile quirked at the corner of Anthony’s mouth.
“I hit him, of course. Fortunately I was carrying my parasol. And then Nathan bit him.”
The twitch had turned into a full grin now. “Naturally. So I take it that you vanquished the fellow?”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes, he dropped Claire and ran off. There was a man there who came to help us, and he ran after him. But I think there was little hope of catching him. I took the children straight home. But I’m frightened.”
“You have every reason to be scared. But we will get to the bottom of this. Don’t worry.” He paused, then went on. “Did you get a good look at your attacker?”
Eleanor shrugged. “It happened so fast…. It was no one I knew. He was about medium height, not burly, but not slender, either. He was dressed roughly, like a workman, and he wore a cap. I could not see his hair.”
“Was he dark? Pale?”
“He was not dark-skinned. He had a large nose. I could not see the color of his eyes. They were shadowed by the brim of his cap.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry. I am afraid I am not very useful.”
“I feel sure he did his best not to reveal much of himself,” Anthony assured her.
There was a tap on the door, and Anthony turned to open it, saying, “Hopefully this is Rowlands.”
He pulled the door open to reveal a young man, rather tired and sweaty. The man pulled his hat from his head, bowing a little toward Eleanor and saying, “Ma’am.”
It was the man who had gone after their attacker.
Eleanor stared. “How did you—” She swung to face Anthony. “What is going on?”
“This is Rowlands. He does a bit of work for me sometimes. I set him to watching your house when you would not let me help you.”
Eleanor bristled. “But that’s—that’s—”
“It was all I could do to protect you,” Anthony pointed out.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Rowlands put in apologetically. “I lagged too far behind in the park. I was afraid they would spot me, so I didn’t want to stay close.”
“Were you able to follow him?” Anthony asked.
The young man shook his head regretfully. “I chased him out of the park. Then he jumped on the back of a milk wagon, and I managed to catch a hansom to follow him. But then he got off, and I did, too, and I think he spotted me. He lost me in the East End. I spent some time asking around about him. Seeing if anyone knew him.”
“So you got a good look at him?”
“Fairly good. But it wasn’t much use, sir. One chap told me it might be a fellow called Smiley, on account of he has a scar, here by his mouth, makes it look like he’s grinning. Another one said it might be a fellow named Farnston, lives next door to him. But I think they were more interested in the money I offered than the truth, quite frankly. If it was one of those two, I couldn’t find anyone who could take me to him.”
“Probably just a hired thug, anyway. Though it would have been nice to have a chance to pry the name of his employer out of him.”
Eleanor stood listening to the two men talk, trying to decide how she felt about the whole matter. Her independent nature was ruffled by Anthony setting someone to watch her without her knowledge or consent, but she also found that the concern that had prompted the action warmed her.
“Take another man or two and go back,” Anthony told Rowlands. “See if you can find either this Smiley or Farnston. Hudgins will give you some money to spread about. I’d like to talk to the kidnapper, if you can find him.”
Rowlands nodded and left. Anthony turned back to Eleanor. There was a wary look in his eyes that made her chuckle.
“You need not look at me like that,” she told him. “I shan’t bite you. I don’t like your spying on me, but the fact of the matter is, I should have taken your words more seriously. If things had happened just a little bit differently today, your setting your man to follow us might have saved Claire from kidnapping.”
“Then you believe the incident today is connected to your intruders?”
Eleanor shrugged. “It is hard to imagine all these things happening independently of each other. I can only think that whoever it is intended to take Claire and use her as a bargaining tool against me.”
“That is what occurred to me. That he hoped to get whatever he has been looking for by trading the girl for it.”
“But I still have absolutely no idea who he is or what he wants!” Eleanor exclaimed in frustration.
“If Rowlands has any luck, perhaps we can get a lead back to the culprit. And in the meantime, we ought to make a push to discover what it is the man is seeking.”
Eleanor nodded. “Yes. But first I have to get the children out of danger. I cannot risk anything happening to them.”
“I have an idea. I have a fishing lodge in Scotland. There’s a car
etaker there, a fierce Scot who’s related to half the people around. No stranger could arrive there without his being alerted. We can send the children there with their governess.”
“I’ll send Bartwell with them. And Zachary. I am certain he will insist on going along to protect them.” She chewed at her lip a little nervously; she hated the thought of letting the children out of her sight.
Anthony came over to her and took her hand in his, looking down into her face. “They will be safe there. I am certain.”
Eleanor smiled faintly. “I know. I cannot help but worry, not having them right by my side, but I know you are right. I trust you.”
The simple words, offered in her calm voice, warmed him. She was not, he knew, a woman for whom trust came easily, yet she was placing that which was most precious to her in his hands.
He raised her hand to his lips. “Thank you.”
He kissed the backs of her fingers, then turned her hand over and pressed his lips against her palm. The velvet touch of his lips, the warm brush of his breath on her skin, sent a shiver through Eleanor. She looked up at him, her eyes darkening, and desire coiled in his loins.
He wanted to curl his arm around her and pull her close. He wanted to sink his lips into hers and take her in a slow, deep, leisurely kiss. But this, he knew regretfully, was neither the time nor the place.
With a sigh, he released her hand and stepped back. “If you will excuse me, I will set arrangements in place.”
“I will go home and explain our plan to the children and the others. I am sure I can get them packed and ready to go by this evening.”
He nodded. “I shall send them north in my carriage, with a couple of outriders. If anyone follows them, they’ll catch him,” he promised grimly. “Then,” he went on, “as soon as they are gone, you and I are going to look for this mysterious object.”
Eleanor returned home, looking around her carefully as she got out of the carriage. Had the would-be kidnapper kept watch on the house just as Anthony’s man had and then trailed them to the park? It seemed the most likely possibility. However, she would have expected Rowlands to have seen the man there, which meant, Eleanor concluded, that the kidnapper had been very adept at keeping hidden. She frowned, wondering if even now there was someone here, carefully hidden, watching her.
She shook off the shivery feelings such thoughts engendered in her and went inside. Calling for Bartwell, she trotted upstairs to the nursery, where she found Zachary, Kerani and the children. Kerani was trying to distract Claire and Nathan by reading a story aloud, but the effort was clearly in vain. There was a tight look on Claire’s face that sent a pang through Eleanor’s heart, and the girl had jumped when Eleanor opened the door.
Eleanor sat down, taking the girl onto her lap, and explained to them what she and Anthony had planned. Predictably, the children were loath to leave her, but she reassured them by pointing out that not only Kerani, but Zachary and Bartwell, would be there, as well, to make sure they were safe. Zachary chimed in with a description of the many pleasant activities that would doubtless await them in Scotland. Even though he had never been there, he made it sound like such a paradise that soon even Claire was asking eager questions.
“It will be a splendid vacation,” Eleanor assured them, adding the clinching statement, “And you won’t have to do any schoolwork for the next two weeks, so you will have plenty of time to fish and ride and explore.”
Eleanor set the maids to packing and the cook to preparing a basket of food to take with them for the ride. Soon everyone was bustling around, and by the time Anthony arrived in his spacious carriage, along with a second carriage for the travelers, everything was in order. Eleanor loaded the children into their carriage, kissing them goodbye and swallowing back the tears that threatened to rise in her throat. Zachary and Kerani climbed into the coach with the children, while Bartwell, a brace of dueling pistols tucked into his belt, took his place on the high seat beside the coachman.
From the trusting expression on Kerani’s face when she looked at Zachary, Eleanor suspected that he might find his suit progressing during their stay in Scotland far faster and farther than he ever would have expected.
The coach clattered off, followed by the two horsemen Anthony had promised. Eleanor waved goodbye, then stood for a long moment, watching the dark street for any sign of movement in the shadows. Anthony, beside her, did the same.
“No one is following them,” he said. “And if somehow they are, the outriders will spot them.”
Eleanor nodded. “They are safe away.”
The two of them turned and walked back into the house.
“Where shall we start?” Anthony asked.
She sighed. “I suppose with my jewelry. Obviously he must not have gotten what he wanted when he made off with my locket. But it seems to be the jewelry that interests him.”
They checked on the expensive jewelry first, on the presumption that the intruder simply had not realized where to look for what he wanted. It was all there where it belonged, in the safe—a glittering parure of diamonds and rubies; a pendant necklace of deep blue sapphires; a brooch of pearls and another of rubies; two bracelets, one of heavy gold links and the other of emeralds; and several rings, including her mother’s wedding ring and a large, mannish gold ring that had belonged to Eleanor’s father.
“They’re certainly valuable,” Anthony commented, sifting through the glittering baubles.
“But not anything that one would have mistaken a locket for,” Eleanor pointed out. “I cannot think that if he were searching for expensive jewelry, he would have taken the locket.”
“Perhaps it just happened to be in his hand when you woke and he ran with it,” Anthony suggested.
“I suppose that could be it.” Eleanor inspected each piece of jewelry again. “Perhaps he might think I would keep good jewelry in my bedroom here, but why would he think I would take such pieces on a trip into the country for a few days?”
“If we assume that the intruder has any sense, then I think we must admit that he is not after these jewels,” Anthony agreed.
Eleanor nodded and began to fold the jewelry back into its soft velvet cases. She returned everything to its place in the safe, and she and Anthony went up the stairs to her bedroom.
When they stepped into the room, her eyes strayed immediately to the large bed. It seemed illicit to even be in a bedroom with Anthony. She remembered what had occurred the last time he had been in her bedchamber, and she could feel a flush rise up her cheeks.
“I have looked through everything here several times,” she said quickly to cover her embarrassment, and led Anthony to the dresser where her jewelry box sat. “But on the basis that this is what the intruder concerned himself with both times, let us examine these again.”
She pulled out all the necklaces, earrings and brooches from the box, and spread them out on the surface of her dresser. Carefully, one by one, she and Anthony picked up each piece and examined it.
“I was wearing this the night he broke in the first time,” Eleanor commented, picking up the black inlaid brooch Edmund had given her before his death. “You know…Edmund gave me this, and he told me…”
Eleanor thought back, trying to remember his exact words. “He was rather odd about it. He said to wear it for his sake. Or to treasure it for his sake, something like that. Afterwards I wondered if he had had a premonition of his death. Or if he had…perhaps planned it.”
“What?” Anthony looked startled. “You think that Edmund committed suicide?”
“I don’t!” she protested, but even she could hear the desperate desire in her voice to believe her own words. “He did not seem unhappy. He was in the best health I had ever seen him, and his opera was being produced. He had every reason to live. Yet he said that to me, and he looked very solemn. When he died at sea, I could not help but remember how he had told me about Percy Shelley’s death. He found Shelley’s funeral pyre fascinating…somehow heroic. Sometimes I wondered if
he meant to seek his death at sea so that he could leave this earth in the same grand fashion.”
Eleanor looked up at Anthony, her blue eyes tortured. Quickly he reached out and took her hand.
“Do not think that. I do not believe that Edmund would have taken his own life. He had clung to it too hard for too many years. And why would he do it when he was at the very peak of his career and health?”
Eleanor gripped his hand, grateful for his reassurance. “Thank you. I want to think that, too. But why did he say what he said to me?”
“Perhaps it was just that he wanted to stress the importance of this brooch. Just in case something happened to him, he wanted you to take care of it. Is it somehow special?”
“It is of good quality. It is called pietra dura, an Italian method of inlaying tiny pieces of stone into a picture. It requires skill, of course, but it isn’t as if it is made of precious stones.”
Eleanor ran her fingers over the inlaid colored stones that formed the picture of a flower, and the circle of gold that surrounded the black stone. She turned it over and looked at the back.
For the first time, she noticed a line running through the golden rim of the brooch. “Wait, what is this?”
She held the object closer to the candle. There, faint but distinct, was a line, no thicker than a hair. It ran all around the circular rim of the brooch, about a quarter of an inch from the back of the pin. “Do you see this?”
Anthony nodded, his head bent close to hers. Eleanor was vividly aware of his nearness, the brush of his hair against hers, the warmth of his breath upon her cheek, the faint scent of his masculine cologne. It was suddenly difficult to think of anything but his presence. She hoped he did not notice the faint trembling of her fingers.
“Can it be prised apart?” he asked.
Eleanor tried to insert her nail into the infinitesimal crack, but she could not. Holding it between her fingers on either side of the crack, she tried to pull, without any results, and then began to twist it.
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