Checkmate, My Lord (28 page)

“Daughter,” Catherine’s mother said in a harsh voice. “The blood is not Sophie’s. Look, child.
Look
.”

Catherine blinked hard, her narrowed vision slowly expanding outward to include the governess’s body, with Cora hunched at her side. “Is she—”

“No.” Cora’s voice was grim, and the look she cast Catherine conveyed it was only a matter of time.

Catherine’s gaze slashed to the four corners of the bedchamber. “Where’s Sophie?”

Cora nodded toward Mrs. Clarke. “Perhaps she can tell us.”

Her mother tore a sheet off the bed and knelt on the other side of the governess. She looked at Cora. “Since my daughter is not trying to claw your eyes out, I take it you are a friend.”

The agent nodded. “Cora deBeau.”

“Evelyn Shaw,” her mother said. “Remove Mrs. Clarke’s hands, if you will.”

After Cora pried the injured woman’s bloody hands away, Catherine’s mother pressed the bed sheet to the oozing wounds at her stomach and lower back. The governess cried out and tried to curl into a ball. “None of that now,” her mother said. “We must stop the bleeding.”

Catherine dropped to her knees to assist, even though precious seconds ticked away.

“S-sorry.” Mrs. Clarke fumbled for Catherine’s hand. “Had no choice—” A wet, rattling cough seized her and spittle, thick with blood, sprayed the floor and splattered their clasped hands. “My son.” Her voice grew weaker and a single tear curled over her nose. “
Giles
.”

Earlier today, Catherine had sensed a kinship with this woman, but no amount of coaxing would lure her to share a confidence. Now she knew why, and felt a stab of guilt for her shabby treatment of this suffering mother. “Mrs. Clarke, where are they taking my daughter?”

“My son. Find him. London boys’ home.” She coughed again.

“Mrs. Clarke, please—”

“The bleeding won’t stop,” her mother said. “You must try not to cough, Mrs. Clarke.”

More tears streamed over the bridge of the governess’s nose. “Tell Giles I l-love him, tell him I wanted to do what was right—” Another wave of coughing, this one far worse than the last, halted her confession. When she finished, she could barely lift her eyelids. “His father—danger…” Her dying body sagged onto the floor like an inflammable air balloon losing its heat. The dead woman’s grip on Catherine’s hand loosened.

Pounding feet sounded in the outer room a moment before Sebastian stormed into the small chamber, his eyes wild and his hair disheveled. Catherine’s vision blurred at the mere sight of him. Relief like nothing she’d ever known poured into her limbs.

“Sebastian,” she said through trembling lips. “They took Sophie.”

He stepped forward, and Catherine flew into his outstretched arms. They curled around her, holding her close. Between whispered promises to find their girl, he kissed her eyes, lips, cheeks, anywhere he could reach. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that everything would be set to rights. But thoughts of Meghan McCarthy intruded, and it was only a matter of time before her active imagination replaced the carpenter’s daughter’s death mask with her daughter’s sweet face.

Her stomach heaved, and she jerked out of Sebastian’s arms.

He touched her shoulder. “Catherine—”

“Please don’t,” she whispered, fighting back the nausea.

Cora moved between them. “Chief, I found this by the woman’s body.”

Sebastian tore his gaze away from Catherine’s quaking back to find Cora holding out a blood-spotted letter. He accepted the missive, ignoring his too-perceptive agent’s gaze. “Mrs. Clarke?”

“Dead, sir.”

“Let us remove to the outer chamber.”

He waited for the women to file out, disappointed when Catherine kept her eyes downcast.

“Did the governess provide any clues to Cochran’s destination?”

“No,” Cora said. “She spoke only of her son and of regrets. Given the fact that we found her alive, Cochran can’t be that far ahead. London, do you think?”

“Would be a logical assumption,” Sebastian said, reading Cochran’s letter. “According to Jack, they have twenty—thirty minutes’ lead on us.”

“What of Bingham?” Cora asked.

“Alive, but badly injured.”

“Do you need me to fetch Guy and Ethan?”

“Jack’s on it,” Sebastian said. “But we must bring Bingham inside to have his injuries looked after.”

“Mother,” Catherine said, “I’m sure the servants are hovering nearby. Can you ask Edward and a few other male servants to bring in Bingham?”

“Yes, of course.” Her mother looked relieved to have something to do.

“May I assist, Mrs. Shaw?” Cora asked.

“By all means. I welcome the help.”

“What does Cochran’s letter say?” Catherine asked.

Sebastian refolded the paper. “He wants an exchange.”

“What sort of an exchange?”

Tension rippled along the muscles in Sebastian’s shoulders. He did not want to hurt or frighten Catherine any more than she already was, but he could see no other way around telling her the truth.

Catherine’s mother, sensing what was to come, stepped to her daughter’s side and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Sebastian,” Catherine said. “What does Cochran want? The list of agents?”

He nodded. “In exchange for your daughter’s life.”

“Dear God.” Catherine turned into her mother’s embrace.

Sebastian’s jaw clenched, wanting to be the one she sought for comfort. But after his insensitive remark on the path, he understood why she would not want to invest any more emotion into an
affaire
with an end date. “
Bloody
stupid
bastard
,” he said beneath his breath.

Cora stared up at him with understanding shining in her eyes. “Does Cochran’s letter say anything else?”

“For us to stay put, that he will send more instructions, and to keep the authorities out of it.”

Cora raised a brow. “Is that all?”

“I cannot wait so long,” Catherine said, swiping at her cheeks. “Mother, please see to Bingham.”

“What are you planning, daughter?”

“I’m going after Sophie.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Chief, do something—”

“No, you’re not,” Sebastian said.

Determined brown eyes met his. “You can’t stop me.”

If she only knew the many ways he could stop her, she would run from the chamber and never look back. “Very well, Catherine. But we ride hard and we ride fast. With any luck, Cochran’s using a carriage, thinking he had hours before anyone would notice your daughter’s absence.”

“I’ll come with you,” Cora said.

“No,” Sebastian said. “Assist Mrs. Shaw with Bingham and have the others follow when they return.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Sebastian could see the toll this situation was taking on her. Cora hadn’t fully recovered from her near-death experience in a French dungeon. Being thrown in the midst of another lethal mission so soon after the last would not help with the healing process. “I can take care of Cochran and his fiendish assistant.”

He strode away before his agent could argue further, grasping Catherine’s hand on his way by.

“Whoa!” the driver yelled.

Teddy had enough of a warning to brace himself before the front of the carriage bucked high into the air and came crashing back to the ground. Horses screamed, wood splintered, men cursed. Teddy rubbed his bruised bottom.

The carriage door flew open. “Driver, what the hell happened?”

“Pardon, Mr. Cochran,” the driver said. “A large branch in the road. With this godforsaken blackness, I didn’t see it in time.”

Teddy heard a loud click.

“Silas, take a look.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bracing his feet wide, Teddy levered himself up enough to peer through the small window at the back of the passenger compartment. Inside, he found the shadowy silhouette of Sophie sprawled on the far seat, still in her nightdress. She appeared unharmed, but tousled.

The carriage tilted to the side and then the door closed softly. Teddy ducked back down, holding on to Sophie’s wooden archer with all his might. A scuffling noise to his left made his ears perk up.

“Put your weapon down, Mr. Cochran,” a new voice said. “We have your man.”

The newcomer’s statement caused a moment of silence. Then Cochran demanded, “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

“Name’s Declan McCarthy. Now drop your pistol and stand clear of the carriage.”

Teddy’s eyes rounded. What was Meghan’s papa doing out here?

“McCarthy,” Cochran mused. “Little Meghan’s father, I presume?”

“That’s right, you bastard. You’ll pay for what you did to my wee Meghan.”

While McCarthy spoke, Teddy followed the path of the man’s voice, which seemed to be moving closer to Cochran’s side of the carriage. The carpenter wanted to kill the gentleman who’d kidnapped Sophie. Did he even know she was inside? If he shot Cochran, he might miss and hit Sophie. Teddy rubbed his aching chest.

Then the soft thud of hooves against hard-packed earth caught his attention. He shifted his gaze to the right and the painful beating of his heart stopped cold. At the side of the road, he spotted a phantom in a long black cape astride an even blacker horse. The rider edged closer, and Teddy pressed his back into the paneling, his eyes growing larger the closer the phantom came. The rider halted and lifted one gloved finger to his lips in an age-old signal for silence. At least, Teddy assumed it was the phantom’s mouth. The large cowl hid the rider’s face, revealing nothing but a dark, gaping maw.

“Come now, McCarthy,” Cochran said. “Don’t the Irish reproduce like vermin? Surely, you have another child to take the chit’s place.”

Teddy could hear more clicking of metal coming from the passenger compartment. The phantom’s presence kept him rooted in place.

“The only vermin here is you,” McCarthy roared. “Why did you have to kill her? You could have gone away and never returned.”

“And allow the baggage to snivel my name into Mrs. Ashcroft’s ears?” Cochran’s voice turned cold. “You should thank me; two less peasant mouths to feed.”

“Bastard,” McCarthy roared. “She wasn’t a peasant, she was my daughter!”

“McCarthy, no,” someone cautioned.

Teddy recognized the butcher’s voice.

“Yes, calm yourself,” Cochran said, unruffled.

“I won’t tell you again,” McCarthy said between harsh breaths. “Drop your weapon and step away from the carriage.”

“Tell me one thing first.”

Teddy swiveled around when he heard another noise, this time closer. Two men in ragged clothing were inching their way toward the carriage. With their dirty faces, they were near invisible. But Teddy saw them. One was serious and intent. The other flashed Teddy a white smile followed with a wink.

“What?” McCarthy demanded.

“A simple matter of clarification,” Cochran said. “How did you know I would be on this road at this time?”

“I received a note from someone named Specter. The message said my Meghan’s murderer would be fleeing back to London tonight. Seems my new friend was right.”

Teddy glanced at the caped rider.

“I see,” Cochran said. “You placed a great deal of faith in a stranger’s note.”

“Saw no harm in checking things out. Time for conversing is over.”

A shot exploded from inside the carriage, and Teddy covered his head with his arms. The carriage door wrenched open and then he heard the most awful words.

“Stay back,” Cochran warned, “or I’ll kill the girl.”

No longer silent, the night came alive. Masculine voices from all directions hissed curses upon Cochran’s head. Teddy peeked over his arms in time to see the phantom motioning instructions to the two men before melting into the shadows.

Teddy rolled to his knees but froze when Cochran backed into view. He held Sophie against him, her arms and legs dangling like a doll’s and her head rocking back and forth. Sweat bubbled on Teddy’s brow and skated down his sides. Another step back and Cochran would find his hiding place. He glanced at the two ragged men drawing closer.

“Put the Ashcroft girl down,” McCarthy demanded. “You’ve no call to bring her into this.”

“I think having her at my side evens things out nicely.” Cochran whirled around, baring his back to Teddy.

But not before Teddy saw Sophie’s eyes flutter open. Heartened, he gripped his wooden archer tighter and prayed for a heroic plan to come to mind. Nothing surfaced, for his mind was too frozen with fear. If all went wrong, he could lose his friend. His brow scrunched into an angry vee. He couldn’t let that happen.

In the distance, Teddy heard a steady roll of thunder. Cochran heard it, too, and glanced up the road. For an instant, fear slackened the gentleman’s features before they transformed into a slab of hatred.

“I require a horse.” Cochran faced his unseen foes. “Now.”

Teddy heard the sound of feet wading through tall grasses. When McCarthy spoke next, his voice seemed to be within reaching distance.

“You’ll have it,” McCarthy said. “Let the girl go.”

Sophie spotted Teddy then, and he glimpsed her determination, the fire burning in her blue eyes. A new terror gripped Teddy as the thunder grew louder.

“Bring the horse and I’ll deposit her a mile down the road.”

No!
Teddy held his breath while waiting for McCarthy’s answer. Cochran would take off on that horse with Sophie and he would never see her again.

Getting his feet underneath him, Teddy waited for Cochran to turn toward the thunder, which seemed to be right on them now. The two ragged young men were shaking their heads and waving him off. Teddy ignored them, catapulting himself onto the scoundrel’s back. Teddy slammed the archer’s wooden arrow into the man’s neck, causing Cochran’s grip on Sophie to loosen. She took the opportunity to squiggle down far enough to sink her teeth into his arm, forcing a roar to rip from Cochran’s injured throat. He dropped her, and Teddy went sailing through the air. His head struck the road, sending shards of pain through his skull.

Teddy heard a feminine scream and a man’s yell a moment before a large black horse trampled his prone body.