The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (38 page)

Her heart pounded. What to do? She opened her mouth to scream for help when suddenly the other man spotted her. "Lady Weston," he ground out. "Run."

After that, everything happened in a flash. Trevor's head whipped around, and the other man took advantage of his distraction and grabbed the knife. "Have you now, you blighter," the stranger growled. "I'll not—'"

He suddenly gasped, groaned, and rolled off Trevor, his hand covering his privates as he curled into a ball. Trevor bounded to his feet and rushed toward Sarah. She backed away. "Help!" she cried, even as she turned to run.

He caught her from behind, one hand wrapping around her waist, the other muffling her mouth. She struggled, twisting and kicking and even trying to bite as he pulled her back into the shadows of the alley. The metallic scent of blood wafted up to assault her nostrils, and the harsh sound of his labored breaths against her ear sent shivers down her spine. She was frightened clear down to the bone.

"Hell, Sarah. Why did it have to be you?"

She spied the glint of the knife in his hand, then something else. A small bottle. She renewed her struggles, and he shifted her in his arms. For a moment his hold on her eased, and she had the wild idea that she might just get away.

Then a handkerchief in Trevor's hand came toward Sarah's face, and suddenly she saw no more.

White satin slippers tied to the newlyweds' luggage bring good luck.

Chapter 19

Nick had met Trace and Tye McBride at the Turf Club for lunch when a Weston House footman tracked him down to tell him of an emergency at home. The three men rushed back to find a Mr. Tom Parnell sitting in Nick's kitchen, his various scrapes, scratches, and one vicious-looking knife wound on his meaty arm being tended to by the housekeeper.

"A wily fox, that one was," he said, dabbing at the cut on his mouth with a damp rag. "Never expected him to ambush me like that. Still, I held my own until your lady showed up. I fell trying to protect her, I did. You shouldn't have let her go off on her own, milord. These modern ideas will lead a woman into trouble every time, if you ask me. Why—"

"Where is my wife?"

"That's what I came to tell you. He disappeared with her. There I was rolling on the ground, me nuts smashed all the way up to me throat, and me vision in a haze when I saw him grab her. Got up, I did, hardly able to move, but it was too late. She collapsed, went boneless as bread pudding, and he carried her oft By the time I hobbled meself to the street, they'd disappeared."

The old saying about killing the messenger had never sounded so good. Nick eyed a kitchen knife with the thought of finishing what Trevor Chambers had begun. It helped his temper not at all when his three worried sisters rushed into the kitchen, the three McBride Menaces and two McBride wives on their heels. He didn't need to deal with hand-wringing women right now.

A second look revealed that none of them were wringing their hands. Every last one of them held a weapon of one sort or another. "Aurora, where in the world did you get a bull-whip?"

"I bought it for your birthday gift, but I decided I might need it now."

Claire McBride expertly checked the chamber of a pistol, then tucked it in her skirt pocket. "What can we do to help, Lord Weston?"

His mind in a whirl, Nick glanced around at the people Sarah loved and admitted, "I don't know. I don't know where to start."

Fear was a living, breathing monster inside him, and only his training and experience kept him from surrendering to the beast. He turned to the McBride brothers. "Do you have any suggestions?"

Tye McBride rubbed the back of his neck, then suggested, "Well, first I'd send word to your friend Lord Kimball at the Special Branch. Then I think we should put men in every club Chambers is known to frequent."

Charlotte turned a worried gaze on Nick. "London is a terribly big city. How can we hope to find her?"

"I'll find her," Nick said grimly. "I promise you, I'll find her if I have to search every building in London."

Having said it aloud, he suddenly believed it. He strode toward his office, gesturing for the others to follow. "Ladies, I appreciate your willingness to join the search, but what I need most at the moment is your penmanship. I need to send notes around to a number of different people, and the sooner they're written and dispatched, the sooner we'll be able to begin our search, and the sooner we'll bring Sarah home."

Five of the girls and the McBride wives headed immediately for Nick's office, but Charlotte hung behind. The teary guilt in her eyes stopped him. "What is it, love?" he asked.

"It's all my fault. She wouldn't have gone out today if Lady Pratt hadn't gone on and on about the ribbon. This wedding business has gotten entirely out of hand, and it's all my fault. I wanted a special wedding, and now Sarah is in danger because of it. Why didn't Rodney and I just elope! If something terrible happens to Sarah, I'll never forgive myself."

Nick gave his sister a quick, hard hug. "Nothing terrible is going to happen to Sarah. I won't allow it."

"But how are we going to find her?"

"I'm the Marquess of Weston, sweetheart, and I will use every bit of power and influence that position has to offer. I'll tear this town apart to find her."

She sniffled and wiped away a tear. "You must bring her home, Nicholas. I love her."

"I love her, too, Charlotte. I love her, too."

And by God, he'd tell her so himself before this day was done.

Sarah awoke with a pounding head and a queasy stomach. Slowly the events of the morning came trickling back, and alarm gave her the energy to lift her eyelids.

A set of beady black eyes stared back at her from a narrow, furry face, black but for the line of white running down the center.

Oh, my heavens. Is that a...?

Trevor Chambers spoke up. "You're awake."

"Skunk?"

"It's Trevor, Sarah."

"It's a skunk," she repeated.

He patted her face with a cool, damp cloth. "I know it may seem that way to you now, but you have to understand that I tried to protect you. That man had a knife."

She tore her gaze away from the animal pacing in a cage a short distance away and focused on the man she once considered her friend. He knelt on one knee in front of her in torn and bloodied shirtsleeves.
"You
had a knife."

"I took it away from him. After he cut me. Look." He pulled aside the tear in the white linen and showed her a long, oozing slice in his skin.

She shut her eyes, tried to concentrate and clear her head. "Where are we? What happened?"

"That man attacked me. He followed me and I caught him at it. I only thought to confront him. I never expected him to try to kill me."

Sarah struggled to sit up. Her head reeled and her stomach threatened to revolt, but she gritted her teeth and waited for the worst of it to pass. "You hit me."

"No, I did not!" His voice rang with offense. "I anesthetized you. The warehouse was on my itinerary for the day, so I was carrying a bottle of chloroform for the skunks."

So those spots before her eyes—or stripe, in this case—weren't a figment of her imagination. "The girls and I have talked about this. England doesn't have skunks."

Trevor's eyes twinkled wickedly, and he grinned. "They do now."

At that point, Sarah attempted to stand. She realized she was bound at both wrists and ankles, and she began to struggle. "What is this? Why am—"

"Wait. Be still. You're making her nervous. She's beginning to pace, and that's a warning sign."

He lifted Sarah into his arms and carried her away from the cage, which she now realized was one of two. The smaller of the two held one skunk; the larger a mama and two little babies. No fool, Sarah quit struggling until he attempted to set her down a good fifty feet from the cages. She wondered if it was far enough. "Where are we?"

"St. Katherine's Docks. I told the landlord I'm exporting antiques to Texas. There's a pleasing view of Tower Bridge I'll show you later if possible. First, though, I need to fix a bed for you. I wasn't expecting guests." He hesitated, frowned, and said, "I don't know quite what to do about all of this, Sarah. I never intended to involve you. What a piece of bad luck that you saw me. I should not have followed you, I know, but I saw you in Oxford Street and you looked so beautiful, so happy. It was quite a blow."

Incredulous, Sarah could do no more than stare at him.

He continued, "All these months, I have carried a torch for you. I didn't want to believe that our relationship was over. I thought once your legal tangle was solved, you would turn to me once again. Then I watched you at Charlotte's engagement ball and saw how you sparkled with Weston and I began to doubt. Today when I saw you walking in the street, your happiness a beacon in your smile, the spring in your step, the glow about you, I finally realized I had lost. You're his. I was following you, realizing this, when I noted the man following me." He exhaled a heavy sigh and added, "And then you had to see us. What am I going to do now, Sarah?"

"Let me go."

"I cannot do that, I'm afraid. It would ruin everything."

"What's everything?"

His gaze traveled from her to the skunks and he smirked. "Just a little surprise I have planned for the jubilee."

She gasped. "Trevor, no. Nick was right. You're part of the Fenian dynamite war."

Trevor drew back. "The Fenians! I should say not. They're killers. You wouldn't believe the shocking information about them that came my way. Do you remember Shaun Gallagher who worked for the Triple C Ranch out toward Weatherford? His cousin from Chicago was part of that group. I met him one night in Hell's Half Acre. After we spent a few hours drinking and disparaging Britain, he approached me about joining his cause and told me about a truly ghastly scheme the Fenians were planning."

He shuddered at the memory, then continued, "I reported what I knew—anonymously, of course—and two days later Gallagher was found murdered in his bed. I think the Fenians killed him for speaking out of turn. The only reason I'm still alive is that I pretended to have been too drunk to recall meeting Gallagher, much less the plot. It's true that as an American I can sympathize with the Fenians' cause, but I don't condone killing."

Somewhat reassured, Sarah was also confused. "You are referring to the conspiracy to bomb Westminster Abbey during the queen's jubilee thanksgiving service?"

"That's the one."

"But if you're not involved in that, then why am I here? What's going on? Why am I tied up?"

"Well..." He stood and backed away from her, the ease in his manner fading. "The truth is, my darling, while I'm not involved in the Fenian conspiracy, I do have a bombing plot of my own."

Sarah's stomach dropped and rolled around some more. "Now I'm totally befuddled. Didn't you just say you don't condone killing?"

"Killing is not required to make a political statement, Sarah. The Fenians want to bring down a government. I want to get the government's attention. Times have changed, and the aristocracy refuses to change with it. Primogeniture is a barbaric system that has brought heartache and despair to many a family. Why should birth order determine the worthiness of a man, I ask? Why should younger sons be forced to leave their home, family, and country to seek their fortune?

"It's hard to leave one's home, Sarah. To go a stranger to a strange land, especially when one has been trained to idleness and sport, not the skills needed to work. Knowledge of Cicero and Caesar doesn't help a man survive a Montana blizzard. Knowing how to command a coach and four won't help bake a loaf of bread to keep yourself from starving."

"Oh, Trevor. What are you planning?"

"The inheritance laws in this country must be changed. Parliament is the only one who can change them. I intend to get Parliament's attention in such a manner they'll never forget. I have taken the Fenians' plan and given it my own special twist. It's quite clever, I must admit. Some might say diabolically clever. Imagine, if you will, Sarah, the scene in Westminster Abbey at the jubilee service. Every peer in the realm will be there. Every eldest son in his velvet and ermine coronation robes passed down through generations with their precious titles. Think of all the satins and silks." A maniacal light entered his eyes as his gaze slid toward the cages. A soft laugh escaped him.