The Bartered Bride (35 page)

I shall be an hour or so late to dinner because I must meet a man at the Elliott House
offices. He claims to have important information about slaving. Don't worry, I'm not being the
least bit reckless. I'll explain it all when I get home.

Love, Iskandra.

He swore with a sailor's fluency as his vague forebodings crystallized. Bard looked shocked, never having seen any signs of temper from him before. "Tell the cook that dinner will be delayed indefinitely," Gavin snapped. "I'm going to retrieve her ladyship."

He spun on his heel and headed back to the stables. Riding would be faster than driving a carriage at this hour, so he ordered a horse saddled. He'd been riding regularly, so he no longer worried about controlling his mount on crowded city streets.

By the time he finished the long ride from Mayfair to the East End, his temper was simmering on the edge of explosion. The street in front of the warehouse was quiet but not deserted as it would be later. He beckoned to a loitering boy who didn't look too larcenous. "Are you afraid of horses?"

"No, sir!" the boy said indignantly.

"Very good." Gavin handed over a half crown and the reins. "There's another half crown for you if you'll hold my horse for a few minutes."

"Yes, sir!

"Thank you. I'll include a piece of advice for free. Don't ever get married." Gavin tried the door to the warehouse, swearing when he found it unlocked. Why had he been fool enough to give Alex a key to the building?

Because she was his wife and he trusted her honesty. It was her judgment he had doubts about. The staircase to the offices led up the left side of the building. He took the steps three at a time and strode into the offices, braced for an argument.

Dressed as demurely as a Quaker except for the Paisley shawl around her shoulders, Alex was quietly working at the junior clerk's desk, which had a clear view of the door. She glanced up at his entrance. "You're quick. I thought I'd be done before you could get here." Her calm acceptance threatened to push his temper over the edge.

"For heaven's sake, Alex, last night we were both nearly killed right outside on the street! What possessed you to come here alone?"

"I didn't come alone-the second groom drove me here and will pick me up again in just under an hour. And if trouble shows up..." Suddenly she was holding an elegant but businesslike pocket pistol. "I came prepared."

He blinked at the compact, two-barreled pistol, glad she knew guns well enough to automatically point it away from him. "At least you're showing common sense, but what is so important that you feel you have to do this?"

"A friend of Daisy's, a former slave, is coming in a few minutes. He says he can name one of Britain's leading slave runners. Wouldn't you take a risk to learn that?"

He hesitated. "I suppose I would. But if Katie did, would you stand by and not try to stop her?" Alex was taken aback. "Of course not, but I'm not your child, Gavin. I'm your wife. I have the right to take a chance if the issue is important enough."

"For me, nothing is more important than your life," he said starkly. Her expression softened. "No one could ask for a finer protector, Gavin. Ever since we've met, I've benefited from your strength and kindness and understanding. But at the moment, I need to act on my convictions more than I need protection. Perhaps Daisy's friend won't even come and I'll have wasted a trip, but I must do this." She glanced at a clock. "And you must leave right away. He'll be here any moment and Daisy says he won't talk in front of a white man. If you're still here, he might turn around and never come back. So please, please, leave before he arrives."

He hesitated, torn between his forebodings and Alex's plea.

"You understand so much, Gavin," she said softly. "Can't you understand this?" He studied his tall, strong, composed wife. She'd worked hard to regain her courage and her belief in herself. Most women would willingly defer to his judgment and accept his protection-but she wasn't like most women, and that difference was what made her special.

Also maddening. "Very well, I'll leave and wait at the livery stable," he said reluctantly. "When your hour is up, the carriage and I will be back to take you home."

Her smile was radiant. "Thank you for understanding, Gavin."

"Just remember that I've lost one wife. I don't think I could bear to lose another." As he turned to go, he asked, "By the way, where did you get the pistol?"

"I borrowed it from Ashburton House. Now go."

He obeyed, on the verge of turning back with every step. Outside he saw no sign of a black man. Maybe the fellow wouldn't come. But if he did, and his information was sound, Alex had the chance to make a real difference in the illegal slave trade. He prayed that would happen, and justify his present anxiety.

When he paid the boy another half crown for watching his horse, the lad said cheekily, "Your wife didn't listen?"

"Matters have been settled." He swung onto his horse and started down the street, knowing that Alex would surely be fine and he was worrying unnecessarily.

But he still felt goosesteps on his grave.

Daisy's friend was almost half an hour late. Hoping he hadn't seen Gavin and been frightened away, Alex continued to work and hope.

The footsteps were so quiet that she didn't realize someone was coming until the office door swung open. She glanced up-and realized with sick certainty that Gavin's fears had been justified when four men filed into the office, none of them an escaped slave. The first two were brutish, hard-bitten sailors. The third, a wiry man of the same type, was the attacker she'd kicked in the groin the night before. The fourth was Sir Barton Pierce.

Though she'd met him only once, at the Ashburton ball, the fact that he was Gavin's enemy had emblazoned him on her mind. Under cover of her papers she lifted the pistol and concealed it in the folds of her shawl as she rose to greet her visitors.

"What an unexpected surprise. If you're looking for my husband, Sir Barton, he isn't here." She debated whether to say that Gavin and several servants would be arriving soon, then decided against it, since Pierce and his menmight wait in ambush.

"I know he isn't. I saw him leave a few minutes ago." Pierce studied her critically. "You haven't half the looks of my Frederica, but I suppose all your fancy relatives made you worth marrying. They'll see that your husband doesn't marry again after his wife disappears, so he'll have no heir for his precious earldom."

She felt an icy chill. "I have no plans to disappear."

Pierce laughed as if this was a normal conversation. "You don't get a choice. Don't worry, you won't be hurt. Just come along quietly."

"There are always eyes watching in London." She glanced contemptuously at his villainous companions. "You and your men were seen coming in, and will be seen taking me out against my will."

"We didn't come in the front," Pierce said smugly. "I leased the warehouse next door under a false name. The buildings are connected, with only an old door nailed shut between the two spaces, so it was easy to get in here. No one saw us coming, and no one will see us going." His voice hardened. "Now get over here so we can gag you and tie your wrists, or I'll let my lads have some fun while they do it." The wiry man growled, "I owe the bitch some rough handlin'." Though he was no taller than Alex, the viciousness in his gaze made her skin crawl. A pity she hadn't studied pentjak silat instead of wing chun. If she had, maybe she'd have broken his neck the evening before.

"Maybe later, Webb, there's no time for it now." Pierce glanced around the office. "Where is the cash kept? Be a pity to burn it up." Burn? Alex realized that the scent of smoke was beginning to overpower the pervasive odor of tea. Pierce must have men setting fires in the warehouse below. The business Gavin had worked so hard to establish here was going up in flames.

Her grip on the pistol tightened as she fought rising panic. She had two shots, but that wasn't enough against four men who were experienced fighters.

Get one of them out of the room. "There's a cashbox in Lord Seabourne's desk." She used the title deliberately and had the satisfaction of seeing Pierce scowl as he crossed the room to enter Gavin's office. Since she'd lied about the cashbox, he'd be busy looking for several minutes. Webb crossed the room toward Alex. "Sly, Ned, give me a hand tyin' her up. The bitch fights dirty." Three to one-her odds would not get any better. Alex raised the pistol and fired at Sly, who was closest. Seeing her weapon, he shouted and dodged to one side, grabbing at his arm with a curse when she pulled the trigger. The report was ear-numbing in such close quarters. One bullet left. She swung the pistol toward Webb and fired as he leaped at her. He gasped, a look of shock on his face. There was blood on his shirt and he swayed for a moment before lunging for her weapon.

He managed to grab the double barrel. Since the empty gun was useless to her, she let him have it. Darting around the desk and the wounded Webb, she raced for the door. If she could get to the stairs she had a chance ...

"Bitch!" Ned caught her arm and swung her around.

Before he could strike her, she jammed the heel of her hand into his throat, then twisted and kicked Sly, who was closing from the other side, blood streaming from his upper arm. Sly staggered as she smashed his knee, but he managed to stay on his feet and grab her other arm. Pierce returned, drawn by the commotion. "Christ, can't you do anything right?" he roared at his men.

"C'mon, the fires are spreading fast and we have to get out while the stairs are still safe. Take care of that damned woman!"

A blow smashed into the back of Alex's head. She had an instant to be glad that at least she would die fighting.

Katie. Gavin. Darkness ...

Gavin paced around the livery stable yard while the younger Seabourne groom watched uneasily. Gavin had refrained from yelling at him since the groom had no reason not to obey Alex's orders, but a blind man would be aware of Gavin's displeasure.

He pulled out his watch. Only fifteen minutes until it was time to pick up Alex. "Is the curricle ready to go?"

"I'll check, my lord." Glad of an excuse to leave, the groom vanished into the back of the stable. Fourteen minutes. Thirteen. Was it time to go? Not yet-the warehouse was only five minutes away, and Alex would not be happy if he frightened off her informant.

He tried to dismiss his increasing uneasiness. Maybe he was tense because of the heavy clouds that were rolling in, threatening the city with storms. Or perhaps it was because, as Alex had pointed out, he liked having everything under control, and this present situation wasn't. Or maybe something really was wrong.

The boy who'd held Gavin's horse earlier stuck his head in the arch that led from the stable yard to the street. "Was that your warehouse you visited, mister?"

Gavin stared at him, his blood going cold. "Yes. Is something wrong?"

"It's on fire," the boy said cheerfully.

Gavin's forebodings blazed into a certainty of disaster. He swung into the saddle of his waiting horse, shouting, "Call the fire brigade!" to Fitzgerald, the stable's owner. Recklessly he galloped down the Ratcliff Highway, then into the cross street that led toward the river. In the open air a column of smoke was visible to his right. As soon as he turned into the road that fronted the warehouses, he saw that the smoke was pouring from Elliott House. Praying Alex had made it outside safely, he raced toward the fire, not reining in until he risked trampling the onlookers drawn by disaster. Abandoning his mount, he forced his way through the growing crowd. "My wife was in the building!" he shouted. "Has anyone seen her? "

A wizened man shook his head. "No one's gone in or out since you left." No. NO! He stared at the flames, paralyzed by the horror of fire he'd had since the shipboard disaster when he was a young sailor.

But Alex was inside. Forcing the horror down, he broke through the crowd that stayed a respectful distance from the fire, and sprinted toward the warehouse door. Since Alex had left it unlocked, he could be upstairs in seconds. Perhaps she was passed out on the floor. He could do this. He had to do this.

"Nay, lad." A huge stevedore tackled him, almost knocking him from his feet. "If she be in there, she's gone."

"God damn it, let me go!" Saturated with fear, Gavin fought to free himself of the stevedore's grip.

"It's my wife. I have to get her."

The stevedore gave him a hard shake. "You're too late!"

Gavin was about to use a pentjak move when a thunderous crash shook the street. He whirled to see the warehouse roof collapsing. Flames and billows of smoke exploded upward with a hideous roar as the windows blew out, showering the street with hot glass and almost knocking Gavin and the stevedore down.

Gavin began to shake, refusing to accept what he was seeing. Alex couldn't be dead, she'd been perfectly healthy when he left her. She could easily have escaped in time. "She must have jumped out a window on the river side before the building collapsed."

The stevedore eyed him pityingly. Not caring, Gavin worked his way through the crowd toward the end of this block of warehouses, where an alley led down to the river. His progress was blocked by the arrival of a fire engine. The London Fire Engine Establishment was funded by insurance companies, and its first priority was to prevent the flames from spreading to adjoining property. The crew chief barked to his men as they pulled out the leather hose and connected to a fire plug.

"This building and the one next door are gone, but there's time to save the rest of the block." Raising his voice, he shouted, "Free beer to anyone who helps with the pumping!" A cheer went up, and within moments the pump handles were in place and volunteers were laboring to the rumbling chorus of "Beer-O! Beer-O!" The increased pressure blasted out a stream of water that created billows of hissing steam.

A second engine arrived as Gavin reached the alley that led to the river. Panting for breath, he cut down to the waterfront and looked along the river faces of the warehouses. Elliott House had partially collapsed, spilling fiery bricks over the loading dock and into the water. He gazed at the inferno his warehouse had become, bizarrely remembering that unclaimed tea wasn't destroyed in the Customs incinerator because it burned so fiercely that the official chimney had been set ablaze. But Alex still could have escaped the building on this side before the fire got out of control. Perhaps she was looking for him at the livery stable. He returned to the scene of the firefighting, searching the crowd, checking the stable, asking again and again if anyone had seen her. Not a trace.