Barbara Metzger (21 page)

Kathlyn still wore her new fur-lined pelisse instead of a short spencer, because Nanny insisted that there was nothing more dangerous than rushing the warm weather. Kathlyn kissed the older woman’s rounded cheek, laughing. “What would I do without you to worry over me, dear Mrs. Dawson?”

Handing her a covered basket, Nanny smiled and said, “Get on with you, dearie. Spanish coin won’t get you any more of my raspberry tarts, nor turn me up sweet after you sent Lizzie on home.”

“But her mother was ill, and I’m only going to Meg’s house, you know.”

“That’s as may be, but a lady never steps out of her house without escort.” Before Kathlyn could protest once more that she was no such rarefied being, only a humble governess, Nanny went on. “Shoo, now, go. The children will be wondering what happened to their lessons.”

“Oh, they’ll never settle to their books today, not with the picnic to Richmond this afternoon. They’ll be looking out the window for his lordship’s carriage all morning.”

“And I suppose you won’t be, eh?” Nanny teased, and Kathlyn pretended indifference, commanding her feet not to race out the door and skip down the street. She turned and waved good-bye to Mr. Dimm, who’d come for breakfast as was his wont lately, along with midday dinner and late tea. Standing in the window, he waved his pipe and smiled.

Mr. Dimm seemed mightily pleased about that mysterious private business he was transacting this morning, Kathlyn thought. Or else he was in love, too. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? She swung her basket in sheer exuberance—because the sun was finally shining, she told herself—and even gave a gay wave to young Master Ripken down that alley where he thought he was in concealment.

Dimm stood by the window, finishing his pipe before he left for his interview with Lady Bellamy. He watched Miss Partland dance down the street and wave to that rattlepate Ripken, deciding that seeing the chit claimed by her kin was going to be better than finding the diamonds. Something out of a fairy tale, it was, with a handsome prince and all, or the next best thing. Better, considering the state of Prinny’s pocketbook. And he, Jeremiah Dimm, was getting to play fairy godfather. He nodded. Too bad about the diamonds, though.

The Runner put on his coat and gloves and accepted a raspberry tart wrapped in linen from Mrs. Dawson. Dimm allowed as how he ought to remember to bring a bouquet of flowers back with him, to celebrate. Females set a great store by such things, b’gad.

As he left he noticed a woman walk down Ripken’s alley. She had red hair under her bonnet, and a black wrap. Dimm couldn’t recognize her—not at this distance, even with his spectacles—but something about her looked familiar. He shrugged and went in the other direction. Most likely a neighbor lady, he figured. No matter, Ripken would keep an eye on Miss Partland, two if he knew what was good for him.

* * * *

Kathlyn was humming as she turned the corner onto Meg’s street. What a lovely morning!

“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t know of any Hand Street,” she told the driver of the ramshackle coach pulled alongside the curb there. He had his hat pulled so low over his forehead that he most likely couldn’t read the street signs, or perhaps he couldn’t read at all. “I haven’t been in the neighborhood for very—”

Before Kathlyn could complete the sentence, something shoved her from behind so hard that only her outstretched arms kept her head from banging into the carriage. “What—”

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her hood up over her face and pushing her into the coach, which immediately took off at a great rate of speed, swaying as her attacker leaped aboard.

Kathlyn took a moment to catch her breath and uncover her eyes, then she took stock of the situation. The curtains were nailed over the windows, and the doors were locked from the outside. Yes, this had all the trappings of an abduction.

Courtney would kill them this time, Kathlyn feared, calmly setting herself to rights. And she’d have a few choice words for Algie and Woody herself. She couldn’t imagine what they wanted with her now, or where they were taking her, only that a wager was involved. Oh, she’d give those two basket scramblers a rare trimming, she would. She might even permit the viscount to frighten them a bit, to teach them not to terrorize innocent victims. Not that she was afraid or anything, Kathlyn assured herself. It was simply that she had a niggling doubt about Woody driving such sorry nags as the breakdowns hitched to this carriage, and a teensy misgiving about Algie ever smelling as bad as the man who pushed her.

When the carriage halted some time later, the door was pulled open, but a blanket was thrown over Kathlyn before her eyes could adjust to the brighter light.

“Put me down, you cockleheads. Someone will see you and call the Watch. You’ll get arrested before Courtney gets his chance at you.”

Not only were her words so muffled by the heavy fabric that they were almost unintelligible, but her abductors didn’t care. They were two men carrying a rolled carpet between them, which was unexceptional in this neighborhood where no one asked a lot of questions anyway.

“Woody? Algie?” No answer. No way Lord Chase’s friends would have treated any female so recklessly, either. Kathlyn was forced to admit that she had, in fact, been abducted. The carpet muffled her panicked screams.

Dumped out onto a hard mattress, Kathlyn instantly clamped her hands over her eyes. “No, I won’t look. I mustn’t see you.”

“Ursie never told us she was attics to let, Quig.”

Kathlyn kept her eyes covered. “I know, you’ll kill me if I can identify you.”

Sean just stood scratching his head, but Quigley asked, “What do we care? We already got our phizzes on wanted posters, and they can’t hang us twice.”

“ ‘Sides, soon as we get the blunt, we’re goin’ to Canada. Make a new life for us there. We hear they don’t have but one guard watchin’ the mail coaches.”

Which was another reason Kathlyn was glad she’d decided against Canada.

“And we got to talk, missy.” Quigley gingerly nudged her shoulder.

So Kathlyn took her hands away and looked, then almost screamed again. One of her kidnappers was tall, the other short, but both men were ill dressed and filthy, and both had parts of their ears missing, as if there were some odd initiation into the criminal class. But Kathlyn knew those faces. She’d seen those posters.

“Why, you’re Mr. Miner’s associates.”

Quigley cuffed at Sean. “There, knew she was a downy bird. And don’t it sound pretty, ‘Mr. Miner’s associates?’ “

“It’d sound prettier still, Quig, if missy was to tell us what Harry had to say.” They both looked at her expectantly.

Kathlyn shook her head, brushing back her hair that had come loose from its coils. “I’m sorry that you went to all this trouble for nothing, sirs. If I knew anything at all, I would have told Bow Street. We’ll all pretend this never happened, shall we? I’ll be going, if you’ll open the door.”

The door opened, but a woman entered the little room. Kathlyn knew her, too, from the Argyle Rooms and from Epsom. “Why, you’ve been following me all along, haven’t you?” Kathlyn gasped.

“And no picnic, either, ducks.” Ursula hungrily eyed the basket that had miraculously stayed hooked over Kathlyn’s arm. “So make it worth our while and tell us where Harry hid the diamonds.”

“I was telling these, ah, gentlemen that Mr. Miner didn’t tell me anything. He kindly thanked me for bringing him some food and drink, and then he died.”

Ursula sniffed and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “Wasn’t that just like old Harry, going off like a gent. He always did know how to act like a posh swell, didn’t he, boys?”

The others nodded, averting their eyes for a moment in respect for the man they’d killed. “A regular flash cove, our Harry.”

The smaller felon added for Kathlyn’s benefit, “That’s how we did so good at the thieving ken. Harry passed hisself off as a guest at them nobs’ dos, then made off with the goods when no one was looking.”

That was more information than Kathlyn thought she needed to know right now.
“
I, ah, see. But now that Mr. Miner has, ah, gone aloft”—if that’s where courtly jewel thieves went, although she highly doubted it, if there was any justice in this world, or the next—”there is nothing more I can do. He never mentioned a word about diamonds, stealing anything, or hiding anything.” He had mentioned something about Kathlyn getting a reward for her kindness, now that she recalled, but she’d thought he was being grateful, not literal. She didn’t think she’d mention her latest memory to this audience.

Ursula must have seen the sudden light of comprehension in Kathlyn’s eyes, for she demanded, “He said something else, didn’t he? You’re holding something back, I know it.”

“Mr. Miner, ah, said he’d miss his wife,” she prevaricated. “I wasn’t sure if I should mention it, not knowing if you were she.”

“He never did,” Ursula cooed. After she turned him in and all? “That was my Harry, all right, a real sport.” She dabbed at her eyes a bit more, then turned to the men. “Let’s get on with it.”

“But I told you, I don’t know anything important.”

“But you do know someone important, ducks. Someone who’ll pay a king’s ransom to get you back.”

Courtney, of course. Kathlyn couldn’t let him get involved, not with these ragged ruffians. “No, there’s no one. Only old Mrs. Dawson, and you’ve seen where she lives. She couldn’t pay your way to Cornwall, much less Canada.”

“Nice try, ducks, but we know about your fancy man.”

“He’s not—”

Kathlyn might as well have saved her breath, for Ursula turned to Sean. “Get the scissors.”

Oh, no! Kathlyn slapped her hands over her head again. They were going to cut off part of her ear! They’d send it to Courtney with a demand for money. How he was supposed to recognize it as hers, she’d never know. Weren’t all ears alike, and was that what had happened to these thugs’ ears? No, no one would hold them for ransom, she was certain. She was also certain she was on the verge of hysteria and didn’t care. She was entitled.

“What’s got her so riled, Ursie?” Quigley sounded worried.

Ursula shrugged. What did she know about pampered pets of the fancy? “Don’t get yourself in a fidge, ducks. We’re only going to cut off a curl or two to send him. He can put it in his watchcase after. A keepsake, don’t you know?”

A lock of hair? Kathlyn started breathing again.

“Can I have one, too?” Sean begged, putting out his hand. “I never saw anything so pretty.”

Quigley slapped him. “She’s a lady, she is. Not for the likes of you.”

So they took Kathlyn’s curl—and her basket of food— and locked the door. Huddling in her cloak, for there was no heat, Kathlyn looked around. Her captors had left her in a tiny room with no window for climbing out of and no weapons for defending herself. It held one candle, one bed, and only one door, the one that the kidnappers had just gone through. Kathlyn could hear at least two of them speaking on the other side, so even if she could unlock her narrow cell with one of her hairpins, there was no escaping.

Kathlyn decided she had two choices: she could cry, which would avail her nothing, or she could wait patiently for his lordship to come to her rescue. Courtney would come, she knew he would, even if he didn’t love her. He’d come out of his sense of responsibility, or sheer male pride in protecting what he’d claimed. Either that or else he’d pay the footpads’ demands.

She’d make it up to him, Kathlyn swore. She would even marry him if he still wanted a female who was always falling into scrapes.

Emptying her cloak pockets in search of a peppermint candy or one of the molasses drops she carried for the children, Kathlyn discovered her book of sonnets. Very well, she told herself, she’d sit and read until the candle burned out. She’d pretend she was sitting on the ground at a picnic in Richmond, not on a hard bed in a glorified closet. She’d pretend it was summer, she was warm, and this was all a memory. She’d pretend those were only ants crawling up her legs.

Chapter Twenty-three

“What, have you been out in the sun too long?”

Inspector Dimm looked through the heavy damask drapes to get a glimpse of the sky. Last time he looked, that sun had been as dim as his name. Like the smallest dab of melted butter, it couldn’t have covered one biteful of Mrs. Dawson’s scones, much less fried his brain. “No, ma’am,” he answered, “I thought that’s what you meant about my finding your missing relation. Miss Kathlyn Partland.”

“Don’t even say that name!” Lady Bellamy held the sal volatile to her nose. “As for bringing her here this afternoon, I should say not! Why, the neighbors might see that wanton coming in my door. Worse, my daughters might meet her in the hall. Then we’d all be ditched. Their vouchers to Almack’s, their presentations at court, invitations to balls—everything would be canceled if word got out that they’d associated with a fallen woman. And such a one!” That required another restorative inhale. “If anyone knew she was their cousin, they’d be tarred with the same brush, you may be assured. Bellamy’d be certain to hear of it, too, were she in this house. No, no, that is utterly past contemplating. How could you think such a thing?”

Mr. Dimm hadn’t thought for one minute that Lady Bellamy wanted anything but to be reunited with her lost lamb. Then again, he hadn’t thought she’d keep him standing in this parlor while she suffered a paroxysm of nerves. His feet were hurting already. Shifting his weight from side to side, the Runner asked, “Then what was it you had in mind, ma’am? Why were you sending to Bow Street to hire me?”

‘To find the chit, of course, and get rid of her!”

Get rid of her? Dimm was liking this assignment less and less, to say nothing of the lady in her vast lace cap, with her chest draped in rows of pearls like a jeweler’s case, or her beribboned lapdog gnarring near his ankles. “You wouldn’t be thinking I’d be party to seeing an innocent subject carted off to gaol on some false charge, would you?” He was almost looking forward to threatening this ungracious, overbearing female with arrest for suborning one of His Majesty’s officers.

Lady Bellamy sniffed at her salts again. “Of course not, that would only create more publicity. Aren’t you listening? I want you to find the jade and convince her to leave London, no, England.”