GypsyDukeEpub (26 page)

That brought the man's head up in a rush. "Nay, nay, she were gone when I got back. See the window 'angin' open. She musta jumped fer it."

John rushed to the window, measuring the distance to the ground. If Kitty had jumped, she would have broken her neck and probably every other bone in her body. She must have gotten out another way.

John looked back at the man. "How do you know she didn't just walk out?"

"The door were still locked from the outside. She couldn't. And the window was open." He sat up straighter. "See the broke nail on the ground thar. It were nailed shut, I tell ya."

John examined the floor just under the windowsill. There indeed was the broken nail. He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers as he straightened to stare out the window. So, Kitty had found a way out. That meant she was on her own in the worst neighborhood in London. He had to find her.

"Let us depart this place, Jones. We have to find Kitty before anything else happens to her."

"What about 'im?"

"Bring him along." John's voice had ring of steel. He meant to see the man imprisoned for the rest of his life, perhaps even hanged. "He is going to pay for his crime."

They went outside. John immediately ran to the side of the house and looked up at Kitty's window. It didn't look any easier a drop from the ground than it had from the top floor. Kitty must have had something to help her.

John bent to study the ruts in the ground. It rained all the time, so the ground wasn't firm enough to withstand the weight of wagon wheels. He noted several going through this alleyway, but how fresh were they?

Then he noticed a sprinkling of hay on the ground. It lay on top of the ruts, not pressed in by them, so it must have fallen from the back. John went and stood directly under the window, searching the ground.

He found what he was hoping for in a small pile of hay that might
have fallen when a person jumped into a hay cart from a window. He grinned.

What a girl he had! She was one in a million. Not many ton ladies would jump from a window into a moving hay cart.

As he rushed to the end of the street to a waiting Jones and a surly prisoner, he was reminded of something Robert said to him when they were in their teens.

"She might lead you a merry chase…"

John laughed to himself, looking up the street to see if there was any indication where the hay cart might have gone. "She might at that, Westley, she might at that."

"What was that, mi'lord? I didn't catch it."

"Nothing. Take our prisoner to a constable and meet me back at Lord Westley's. Show the constable this, and he will take your word for it." John pulled the duke's ring from around his neck and held out the chain to Jones. "Mind you do not lose that. It has been in my family for generations."

"Aye, sir." Jones let the gold chain fall over his head, tucking the valuable ring in his shirt, out of sight.

The prisoner had a calculating look in his eyes that John didn't care for. Would Jones be able to handle the man alone? But he needn't have worried. Jones pulled the man's arms behind his back, holding onto the joined fists with one hand while his other hand held the pistol to the man's head. John heard the pistol cock.

"Don't ya even think o' getting' away," said Jones, menace in his tone and in his stance.

"Cripes! Whadya wanta do that fer? That blasted pistol could go off."

"Then ya better not trip on yer way to gaol, or they'll be scrapin' yer brains off the ground. Shove off."

The prisoner started walking. John's eyes followed them for a few steps before he turned back to the task at hand, confident that Jones had the situation well under control.

Now if only John could find evidence of which way the cart had turned when it left the alleyway. He wandered first one way then another, seeing nothing helpful. He peered further down the street and was rewarded. He sighted another small pile of hay.

Since he had nothing else to go on, he chose that direction for his search, constantly studying the ground for signs of dropped hay. It appeared that the hay cart had driven right up the middle of the street, for every few feet, John was rewarded with stray bits of dried grass.

He continued to walk.

He traversed several meters without finding a trace of hay. He looked behind him. Yes, there were signs quite a ways back, if you knew what to look for. When he looked ahead…nothing. Somewhere around here the hay cart had changed direction.

He searched the surrounding area. He looked up and down every side alley in the vicinity. No trace of Kitty or a hay cart.

He walked back to the center of the street and stared into the distance, willing her to appear before him, but to no avail, her trail had disappeared.

John crossed his arms, and stomped one foot in disgust. What was he to do?

He felt the slight bulge of Kitty's ring at his side and fingered it through the rough fabric of the coat.
Darling, where are you?

He thought of praying. That's what Kitty would do, but when had that ever done him a bit of good?

He sighed. To be quite fair, he had never tried that sort of thing, leaving it instead to Kitty and his mother. But he was at his wit's end with nowhere else to turn.

He squinted his eyes shut for a second. "All right, God, where is she? I suppose you know?"

"Hey guv, yer talkin' ta yerself. Might ya not be in a bit o' trouble?"

John's head jerked toward the sound. Leaning against the wooden railing of the side walkway, was the most pitiable excuse for a reprobate John had ever seen. He had one eye, the other hid behind a black patch, matted whiskers all over his face, and clothes hardly better than rags. But what drew John's attention, was the long piece of hay that trailed from his mouth as he picked at his rotted teeth.

This was worth investigation.

John took a few steps closer. "Aye, that I am. But you might be able to help me. That hay your fingering. Would you have seen the hay cart that dropped it?"

A glint appeared in the old man's rheumy eye. Surely the fellow wasn't long for this world.

"I might," he said, with a lingering look at John's coat.

Although it was no prize to John, he could see how a many-layered coachman's coat would appeal to the destitute man.

He shrugged it off, careful to palm Kitty's ring in his hand. "Take it. Did you see what direction the cart went?"

"Now that ye mention it," he pulled his arms though the sleeves, "I seem ta recall it disappearing down that alley thar." John jumped forward until the man's next words stilled him. "But it won't help ya none."

"Why not?"

He cackled. "Cause she jumped out not a meter from where yer standin'."

Hope rose like a billow in John's chest. "Small blond girl about this high." He held his hand at chest level to indicate Kitty's diminutive stature.

The man nodded. "That be her. Picked this hay right here out 'o 'er 'air."

An intense feeling of satisfaction settled in John's chest. He was getting somewhere.

"Where did she go?"

That brought another gleam to the man's one eye. "What 'ave you's got?"

There were no more clothes John could part with, seeing as he was standing there in boots, breeches, and shirt. Something the ton would consider half-dressed and shocking. But he had just started his search. If he gave away all the coins hidden in the purse in his boot, he wouldn't be able to bribe anyone else. And that was the only thing that got a response out of the people in that area.

"I haven't anything."

The old man pointed. "What 'bout yer earbobs. Never seen a gent sportin' the like of them."

John immediately took them out. He was ready to part with all he had for news of Kitty.

"Here." He thrust them at the old man.

He cackled again, placing the earrings in a side pocket. "She went that way, quick as her two little feet could carry 'er." He pointed down the street in the same direction John had already been traveling. "But she got up on the walk 'ere, out 'o the street."

John tipped his head. "Many thanks."

"I 'opes ye catches 'er. Were a real bright piece, she were."

John strode down the walkway, the man's loud cackle ringing behind him. He walked until there was a break in the walk, crossed the alley and got back on the wooden walk.

He passed not a single establishment where he thought Kitty would have felt comfortable stopping. Granted, nothing she had endured thus
far would have been comfortable for her, so he had no idea what she might have done to extricate herself from her surroundings.

He was once again studying every person he passed and searching the ground for traces of hay. It was not possible that she had come away from a ride in the hay unscathed.

He saw a stray piece from time to time and continued walking. This neighborhood was soon to give way. He would have to come up with another sign and quickly.

He stopped at the entrance of a bawdy house. There was an old man snoozing against a rail and a woman sweeping around him. Perhaps they had seen Kitty.

"I am looking for a young woman," began John.

The woman rolled her eyes, but grinned. "Ain't ye all. But we don't open fer another three hours. The gels is all sleepin' off last night. And I…I just clean up about the place."

"No, I meant did a young woman pass this way some time ago?"

"Lots o' people pass. Ya think I notice? The only one I recall was a bit 'o snip what asked old George there if he were from Rome." She laughed uproariously. "And him never out o' London."

John's head perked up as he leaned closer. "Rome, you say. Was she a small, blond girl?"

She gave him a calculating look. "That would be her all right."

But John didn't need any further information from her. He strode even more swiftly down the boardwalk, looking for gypsies.

My, but Kitty was a bright girl. She knew John's caravan, including Michel, would be looking for her. He frowned. Not all the gypsies were honorable.

He almost ran at that thought. She could be in as much trouble from the gypsies.

Some minutes later, John ran into Michel.

"Oof," grunted Michel as John knocked the air out of him. "Careful, brother, or I won't be able to give you my news."

John brightened. He'd seen no trace of gypsies in the area.

"What news?"

"There was a girl sighted in one of the camps near here, but they aren't talking. I found out quite by accident that they've also lost one of their young men."

"Lost a man? How so?"

Michel shrugged. "He hasn't come back, and he left with a girl. He was supposed to bring the girl to me."

"Is it Kitty?" John asked excitedly. "Has anyone showed up at our caravan?"

Michel shook his head. "No, and I have the family out canvassing this area. He didn't approach us, and I'm sure it was Kitty."

"Which means he must have avoided us for a reason. Where do you think he will go?"

"There's been money offered for her…on the street."

That didn't make sense. John knew for a fact the kidnapper himself had just discovered Kitty's escape. "Today?"

Michel shook his head. "Not what I meant at all. I mean every gypsy in London knew some nabob wanted that girl. A reward like that would be difficult to ignore."

John felt positively grim. He wasn't sure he could trust every gypsy, even in his own caravan.

Michel regarded John's attire with interest. "What happened to you?"

"I wasn't dressed for the area. I traded my clothes for information. Kitty most assuredly was looking for the Roma. I would suggest we move our search closer to Sir James' residence."

"Agreed. We won't leave any street or alleyway unsearched. Don't worry, John, we'll find her."

John turned at the next corner. Worry. That's all he could do. He almost stopped walking. Except pray. He had received information immediately after praying. John tried it again, silently this time.

So, you do know where she is. Would you mind telling me?

He had the most bizarre longing to find his uncle's residence. He couldn't escape it.

"Michel, take the search to the area around my uncle's house. You know the place."

Michel nodded before trotting off ahead of John.

Chapter 12

Kitty cowered in the corner of the ribbon display, trying to get her breath. Her heart was pounding so violently, she felt the other people in the shop must be able to hear it.

Her gaze darted around, seeking some place of haven where she might hide, but there was nothing. The proprietor would walk over, take one
look at her disastrous condition, and throw her out where she was fodder for John's uncle and that unscrupulous gypsy.

She'd been running blind, on instinct, but there was a higher power that governed her life.

Father, your daughter is in need. I know I have done something foolish to bring myself to this place, so now I need your help, and I ask forgiveness for making decisions without you. Send John to me, Lord. Show him where I am and help me not to be afraid.