Emerald (Jewel Trilogy, Book 2) (43 page)

"Ford and I can take you. We're invited and were planning to go anyway, in order to find out who Jason killed." She squinted at the miniature. "What is that?"

"Adam's picture." When Kendra reached, Caithren handed it over. "Do you see a resemblance?"

"Oh, yes." Kendra grinned, looking from the wee painting back to Cait. "You've the same eyes and chin and hair."

"That's all we share," Cait said. "We couldn't be more different." She sighed. "I'd best get back and prepare to leave."

One more night dressed as an Englishwoman to find Adam, then she would head back home where she belonged. Her hair would go back into plaits, and she would be herself again. Hopefully without these devastating pangs of unrequited love.

Her hand went up to stroke the foreign English curls—and she felt something missing. "My hat! I forgot my hat! I must've left it on that bench." She started running.

"Wait!"

At Kendra's shout, Cait turned back.

"Have you no sense of direction?"

"Nay." She laughed at herself. "Where was it, then?"

"There. Behind that big tree, and back along the path a bit."

"Aye. Bide a wee. I mean, wait here. I shall be right back."

She hurried along the shady path, relieved when she spotted the bench and saw that no one had taken her hat. Running the last few steps, she grabbed it and jammed it on her head.

Just then, a horse came thundering through the park. Someone scooped her off her feet. Her heart hammering, she found herself facedown across a man's lap, his hand tangled in the chain around her neck in an effort to wrestle her upright.

She kicked and twisted, trying to find freedom, but his grasp tightened and the chain bit into her throat. Finally it snapped, and her amulet fell to the grass, her heart plummeting along with it.

Her protection, gone. Her hope, gone.

"Let me go!" she wailed, her eyes filling. The emerald looked smaller and smaller as they rode away, her last glimpse of it blurry through her tears.

Something cold and thin pressed into the back of her neck.

"It's the dull edge of a knife," Geoffrey Gothard growled, "but one more move, and it'll be the sharp side instead."

"What do you mean, she never came back?" Jason paced the drawing room, then came to stand beside Kendra, staring down at her. "Where could she have gone?"

"I looked all over, then I figured she must have come back here." Her gaze kept straying to the window, as though she expected to see Cait emerge from the park across the street. "Lincoln's Inn Fields is not that big. How could anyone possibly disappear in it?"

"You don't know Caithren." He tried to steady his erratic pulse, reminding himself how easily she tended to get lost. "She has a terrible sense of direction."

"So she told me. But I thought she was fooling." At Jason's glare, she flinched. "I looked, Jason. Everywhere. I'm sorry. It's not as though I lost her on purpose. Come, I'll show you where we were. Perhaps she's waiting there now."

Calm. As he followed Kendra out the door, he struggled for calm. Geoffrey Gothard couldn't have gotten her. He'd spotted him less than an hour ago.

He hoped.

Suddenly he wasn't sure. He pulled out his watch, but his hand was shaking, so he shoved it back into his pocket. Dodging the traffic that always surrounded the square, he trailed his sister across the street and into the park. Together they hurried along a path.

The gray day was his enemy, its shadows tricking him into thinking he saw Cait everywhere. "What color is she wearing?"

"Blue. The gown with the puffy sleeves that I wore to Lady Stanhope's house party."

"I haven't memorized your wardrobe, Kendra."

Wisely saying nothing, she slanted him a glance. "Here." She stopped before a stone bench. "She left her hat here. It's gone. So she must have found it."

"I've eyes in my head," he snapped.

"Your face is turning red. You never get upset. Or you never used to, until this whole thing with Gothard started. Even then, you weren't this short-tempered."

Until he'd fallen in love. "You two had no business walking here alone."

"Everyone walks here alone." The sweep of her arm encompassed plenty of unescorted women.

"Not everyone has a deviant after them." When her pale green eyes filled, he drew a deep breath. Patience. "Show me the path you were on when she left you."

Once again he followed her, scanning the square while he tried to reassure himself it wasn't possible Gothard had Cait. Or could he have his timing skewed? How long had he wandered the streets of London, berating himself for not coming clean with Caithren yesterday or the night before? He pulled out his pocket watch again and flipped it open, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what time it had been when he last saw the man.

"Wait." When Kendra stopped, he snapped the watch closed and whirled to face her. Her brow knitted, she motioned off the path. "Is that Cait's?"

A white feather fluttered near the ground. He ran closer and saw it was attached to the hat he'd bought in Wansford. "God. Yes." He plucked it up and clutched it to his chest.

"Look, there was a horse here." Hampered by her high heels, Kendra came along more slowly. "The grass is torn up. By hooves, I think." She bent down and scooped up a glint of gold. "And what is this?" She handed it to him. "It's Cait's as well, isn't it?"

As his fist closed around the emerald pendant, his heart plunged to somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. "I've lost her," he whispered, staring at his clenched hand.

"She's lost, yes. But that doesn't mean you've lost her."

"You don't understand. This amulet is ancient—it's been in her family for centuries. She believed something bad would befall her if ever she was without it."

A sudden wind whipped Kendra's skirts. "Don't tell me
you
believe that nonsense."

Stricken, he slowly looked up at his sister. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"I'll explain this one more time, numbskull. Now, pay attention."

Listening to the Gothard brothers argue, Caithren nervously wandered the small chamber they were in, the back half of a two-room suite at an inn that had seen better days. Besides the sagging bed, a table and two plain chairs were the only furniture. The brothers must be as short of funds as Jason had guessed.

"Thanks to Cainewood doing just as I expected of him, things are right on schedule."

"What
things
, Geoffrey?"

Geoffrey's gaze flickered to Cait. A lascivious gaze. Swallowing bile in her throat, she moved around to the other side of the table and feigned unconcern, running a finger across the bare wood.

"Things." Geoffrey blew out a perturbed puff of air. "I'll be going to the wedding alone."

As he talked, he donned padding to bulk up his body. He'd also worn it to inquire at Scarborough's house, Cait realized. Jason had been right.

Still speaking to Wat, he jerked his squarish head in her direction. "You will wait here and guard the chit."

In reflex she backed up and sat on the bed. The ropes creaked, and a musty smell wafted from the mattress.

Geoffrey glared at his brother. "Think you can handle that?"

Wat shrugged.

A heavy sigh escaped Geoffrey's whitish lips. "I'll lock the two of you in, then. She won't be going anywhere unless Cainewood breaks down the door. If that should happen, you know what to do?"

Wat just looked at him questioningly.

With a huff, Geoffrey marched over to Cait and pulled her off the bed.

"Ouch!" She yanked free. "I will thank you to keep your hands off my arm. It hurts where your brother cut me."

Without answering her, he prodded her in the middle of the back and sent her sailing into the small anteroom, shutting the door behind her.

She stumbled over to sit on an unpadded wooden settle. This room was even more austere than the first. Fuming, she got back up and pressed her ear to the door, but try as she might, all she heard was unintelligible murmurs.

What was he saying? What was he planning? Her mind raced with possibilities. Was he telling Wat to detain Jason? Kill him? Kill them both? No, somehow she thought not. The way Geoffrey had been looking at her, she suspected he had plans for her before doing away with her.

She shuddered.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, she raced back to the settle. Geoffrey opened the door between the rooms, and she watched through the frame. He returned to the table and pulled a cracked mirror from a bag, along with a fake beard and some adhesive. Then he set to work, turning himself into the man she'd seen yesterday morn.

Rising again, she positioned herself on the threshold. "Why would Cainewood be breaking down the door?"

Her words came out a challenge, maybe not the smartest thing to do. But she'd never been good at controlling her emotions.

A nasty grin appeared in the bushy brown beard. "Cainewood will receive a note explaining your whereabouts. Any minute now, I expect."

"What makes you think he cares for me?" she asked, almost hoping Jason
didn't
care, so he wouldn't walk into a trap.

"Cainewood hasn't let you out of his sight." He settled the wig on his head. "Nor far from his lips, I might add."

Had he seen them, then, those times they'd kissed to hide their faces?

As though reading her mind, Geoffrey let loose a sinister chuckle. "He'll be coming after you. Conveniently keeping him from the wedding."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She wished she could put more conviction into that statement. Jason had said over and over he felt responsible for her, and he'd charged in on his silver horse to save her more than once. Just because that particular horse was stabled miles away didn't mean he wouldn't be arriving this time.

Still, she couldn't count on it. She walked to the window and looked out. Four stories down. Her first thought had been to open the window and jump. But even when Geoffrey left and she had only to deal with thickheaded Wat, it would still be four stories down.

She wouldn't be jumping.

Pressing her forehead to the cold pane, she strained to see the wall below. Vines. Old, gnarled vines, the stalks as thick as her forearm. She could climb down the vines.

But only if she incapacitated Wat somehow.

Her gaze darted around the room and into the next one. There must be something here that could help her. Whatever it took, she had to get to the wedding. It was her best—maybe her only—chance to find Adam.

And if she could save Jason from risking his life as well, so much the better.

Somehow Jason managed to dress for the wedding, though he didn't know how it happened. His heart pounded so hard his fingers shook. He was torn in three directions at once.

One, find Cait—absolutely his first priority, but the least likely to be successful. London was the biggest city in England, a veritable rabbit warren of streets and buildings. She could be anywhere.
Anywhere.

Two, get to Scarborough's house and warn him.

Three, go to Lord Darnley's wedding, where he might capture Gothard once and for all.

Since Scarborough was expected at the wedding, he had a strong hunch Gothard would be there, too. For the bride and groom and wedding guests, he hoped he was wrong, but at least it would be done.

Scarborough and Gothard. Those last two he could handle. He hoped.

He frowned at himself as he tied his cravat in the mirror, messing the knot for the fourth time. He couldn't think about past failures. He had to pull himself together and do what needed to be done.

Save Scarborough and apprehend Gothard.

Or go after Cait—

A knock came at the door. Giving the cravat a final yank, he went to open it.

"A letter, my lord." Goodwin proffered a neatly folded square.

The note was obviously scribbled in haste. Eleven words that made up his mind.
Your woman can be found at the Bull Inn on Bishopsgate.

A clue. A direction. Relief coursed through him, though he knew it was premature.

He nodded at Goodwin. "Have the carriage brought round immediately."