Thea's Marquis (22 page)

“Come, this is no time for quarrels, nor for explanations. As far as I could see, Lady Kilmore is not in that room. I suggest we reconnoitre to find where they are holding her. We’d best look round the back.”

Stealthy as alley cats, if less silent, they climbed the piles of debris, an exercise that would doubtless cause their respective valets a good deal of grief. Rod bit back an expletive as his knee met a protruding plank. He heard cloth rip.

“Hell and damnation,” muttered Kilmore, encountering his own obstacles.

Like the front, the rear of the house was illumined by a single glowing rectangle. The window was better covered, however. Try as they might, they could see nothing in the room beyond it. Kilmore tried the door next to it.

“Not locked. I’m going in,” he said grimly. “Penny must be in there. I can’t let her suffer alone any longer.”

“If Vaughn is in his senses, he won’t have her here.”

“Then I shall beat her whereabouts out of him. I’ve floored him before, and I’ll floor him again.”

“He probably has accomplices,” Rod warned. “We need more information before rushing in.”

“He has my wife,” the baron snarled. “That’s all the information I need. Are you with me or not?”

“Very well, but if there are others, at least let us divide their attention. Both doors are unlocked. You take the rear, I’ll go around to the front, and we’ll break in at the same moment. Give me ten minutes—no, better make it fifteen, considering what’s in the way. It’s only twenty past eleven.” By the dim light from the window, they synchronized their watches.

Rod scrambled back round to Chapel Court. Checking his watch, he found he had overestimated the time he needed. Ten minutes to wait.

Watch in hand, he leaned against the wall. Too late to worry about damage to his coat. The seconds ticked past. Somewhere not far off a horse plodded by, the slow rhythm of its hooves sounding weary. One minute. Two minutes.

He heard a distant cry. Amazing how quiet these streets were at this time of night.

And then came a thud within the room behind him. He applied his eye to the gap in the sackcloth just in time to see two bruisers drag in Kilmore’s limp body.

“Jus’ like you said, guv, he crep’ in the back way and looked in the room and there we was waiting.”

Rod gritted his teeth.
Damn the man!
The baron had lost his composure, lost his prudence, lost his patience, and ruined their chance of success. Alone, Rod could not possibly take on those three brutes at once, for all his size and expertise.

The sensible course would be to go for help. But now that Vaughn had both Kilmores in his power, who could guess what he was planning? He’d be furious when he discovered Kilmore had brought no ransom. Given his temper, he was likely to put the present satisfaction of revenge higher than the hope of money in the future.

The only chance was to rescue Lady Kilmore before Vaughn stopped gloating over her husband’s capture. Rod had to get into the house and search for her. Slipping and sliding in his haste, he clambered back towards the rear.

He would never forgive himself, and Thea would never forgive him, if Lady Kilmore came to harm. Where the devil was she?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Penny cast off her knitting and smoothed the tiny yellow jacket on her lap with a sigh of satisfaction. She looked up as Thea’s quiet voice stopped.

“You read so well,” she said, “and Mr. Wordsworth’s poems are so soothing the words just flow past one like a mountain stream. Shall I ring for tea? Your throat is dry, I daresay.”

“A little. Don’t get up, Penny, I’ll ring.” Thea went to the bell-pull. “How is your fringe coming, Mama?”

The dowager stared in dismay at the yards of fringe strewn about her ankles. “Oh dear, I have knotted far too much. I was listening to your reading, dear, instead of watching what I was doing.”

“We shall find a use for it, never fear,” said Penny, laughing. The butler entered and she went on, “Dunmow, the tea tray, if you please. Bring five cups—his lordship and Miss Megan should be back at any moment—and some of the Twelfth Cake.”

“Yes, my lady.” The butler went out.

“I thought Jason would be back by now,” Thea said, helping her mother wind the fringe onto a card. “Oh, there is the doorbell now. Either Meg is home or Jason has mislaid his key.”

Dunmow reappeared, silver salver in hand. “A letter, my lady.” His disapproval of those who delivered messages so late in the evening was plain to see.

Penny took it, looked at it, and turned pale. “Uncle Vaughn’s hand,” she whispered.

Heart in throat, Thea was at her side in a flash. Kneeling by her chair, she put her arm about her sister-in-law’s shoulders. “Are you certain?” she asked, though she had little doubt.

“Yes. Will you read it, Thea?”

She scanned it quickly before reading it aloud. No way to soften the message occurred to her. “Your husband is in my hands.” Her voice shook. “If you want to see him alive, bring £5,000 to 3, Chapel Court, Swallow Street, by midnight. Come alone.”

Penny sank back, her eyes closed. “He must be drunk to think I have so much money to hand, or can get it at this time of night!” She sat up. “My jewels! They are not worth so much, but perhaps they will satisfy him for now. Dunmow, have Nancy bring down my jewels, and whatever of the ready is available, and my outdoor clothes. Quickly!”

“Wait!” said Thea. “You cannot possibly go, Penny. Think of the child! We must send for the marquis, or rather inform him and beg his help, since it would waste time for him to come here. Whether Jason was abducted on the way to Brooks’s or after he left. Lord Hazlewood is probably still there. Dunmow, paper and pen.”

The butler disappeared like a pellet from a popgun and reappeared as abruptly with writing materials. “Here, miss. I’ll send George to the mews to have a horse saddled ready, and Geoffrey can run after with your letter soon as it’s wrote. He’ll have to go on to Arlington Street if his lordship isn’t at the club. Then, meantimes, Mrs. Nancy can get together the needful and I’ll have the carriage brought round, just in case.”

“Yes, well thought of, Dunmow,” Thea agreed, writing as she listened. As he vanished again, shouting for George, she read what she had written. “My dear Roderick...Your most affectionate...” Oh, Lord! No time to do it over. Whatever his opinion of her, surely her knight would ride to the rescue one more time? She blotted the ink, folded Mr. Vaughn’s note inside, and sealed the paper.

Geoffrey dashed in, his face, scarlet with excitement, clashing with the maroon facings of his blue livery. “I’ll gallop all the way, miss,” he promised.

“And gallop back,” she said softly. “If you cannot find Lord Hazlewood, I shall go in her ladyship’s place.”

“You’re a right Trojan, miss,” he blurted out, and dashed off with the note.

Thea turned her attention back to Penny and her mother. The dowager bent over her daughter-in-law, urging her to go upstairs and lie down.

“I cannot,” Penny said faintly, her hand pressed to her abdomen. “Geoffrey may not find the marquis. Even if he does, Hazlewood may not be able to help. I cannot leave Jason to my uncle’s mercy. He has none.”

“Mama, she
must
not go. If necessary, I shall go in your place, Penny. Jason is my brother. I am as tall as you, and if I wear your Russian cloak with the hood raised, Mr. Vaughn will not know the difference. Besides, what can it matter to him who brings the money?”

“Less money than he has demanded. Besides, I fear he wants revenge as much as the ready.”

Nancy came in, bearing the sable-trimmed cloak, a leather jewellery case, and a purse. The thin, grey-haired woman took one look at her mistress and set down her burdens with a thud. “I brought everything, but it’s straight to bed with you, Miss Penny. You’re not going anywheres in your condition, and I’ll have no argufying, if you please.”

Penny did not give in so easily. The persuasions of her maid, her mother-in-law, and Thea might never have convinced her, but suddenly in the middle of the debate, she clutched her middle with both hands.

“It’s moving,” she said in a strange voice.

After that, she agreed to recline on a sofa. As she lay back, all joy at the baby’s quickening destroyed by its father’s peril, Dunmow came in.

“The carriage is at the door, my lady.”

They all stared at one another in silence, and then at the clock on the mantel. “If Geoffrey is not back in fifteen minutes,” said Thea, her voice as odd as Penny’s, “I shall leave anyway, or I may be too late.”

Her mother burst into tears. Realizing she was torn between terror for her son, for her daughter, and for her grandchild, Thea hugged her. Over her head, she caught Penny’s desperate, pleading gaze, silently begging forgiveness. And then they all heard the front door open and close.

Meg rushed in, radiant, tugging Mr. DeVine after her by the hand. “Mama, Thea, Penny,” she cried, “we are engaged to be married! Will says...” Her words trailed away as she took in the scene before her. She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm.

“Lady Kilmore, what is wrong?” asked Will sharply, pulling Meg to him and slipping his arm about her waist with a lack of decorum that was endearing in one usually so proper.

Penny and Thea had scarce finished explaining when Geoffrey burst into the drawing-room, red now with exertion as well as excitement. Behind him surged George and a youth and a small boy, the last two in Hazlewood olive green livery. Under Dunmow’s glare they all sprang to attention.

“Begging your ladyship’s pardon,” Geoffrey began, “Lord Hazlewood weren’t at his club nor at home, but me and George’ll go with Miss Thea and we’ll do for that villain proper, you see if we don’t. This here’s Peter, his lordship’s tiger, and Billy, the laddie as was his tiger. They wants to go too, being as they knows Miss Thea, like.”

“Splendid fellows,” said Will, taking charge. “Dunmow, are there any pistols in the house?”

Jason’s duelling pistols being locked up, Dunmow produced a horse-pistol, which Will appropriated, and a shotgun. The latter he rejected, since none of the men had ever fired one. He armed them with pokers.

“You must stay and guard the rest of the ladies,” he told the butler. “No, Meg, er...Miss Megan, you can’t come.”

Meg pouted, but quickly yielded. The reason soon became apparent: just as Scargill set the carriage in motion she opened the door and sprang in. It was too late to stop and send her home.

“I have come to chaperon my sister,” she said pertly, settling beside Will.

“Then go and sit next to her,” he ordered, then spoiled his sternness by adding, “I cannot think with you beside me.”

“I trust that is intended as a compliment,” she exclaimed, laughing, but she obeyed. She soon lost her cheerfulness when they started to make plans.

Will was all for leaving both young ladies outside and rushing the house with the footmen. “If I had thought before,” he said, “you need not have come at all, Miss Kilmore.”

For a moment Thea hoped that the terrifying task before her was unnecessary. “No, that would endanger Jason,” she pointed out reluctantly, “particularly if Mr. Vaughn has accomplices. He...he may be unable to join in the fight.”

“Hurt?” whispered Meg.

“More likely tied up.” Will leaned across to pat her hand. “A good point, Miss Kilmore. What do you suggest?”

“I shall just go in and attempt to buy his release.” The jewellery case and purse lay beside her on the seat. “Mr. Vaughn may well let us go. If not...well, at least I can distract his attention while you break in.”

“While the others break in,” he corrected. “I shall accompany you.”

“No. He said Penny was to go alone.” Alone. She reached for Meg’s hand, glad her little sister had come. Suddenly Thea was very, very frightened. Will seemed so slight and young, too easily overruled. If only Roderick were here!

The rest of the brief journey passed in a daze. Approaching via King Street, the carriage stopped on the corner of Chapel Court. Will helped Thea down and turned to Meg.

She put her word in first.
“Please,
Will, let me come. I
promise
I shall not enter the house until you tell me it is safe, but if you or Thea or Jason is hurt, I
must
be there to help.”

Her earnest plea won him over. With a lady on either arm, followed by three footmen and a tiger, he proceeded up the dark street as if on a morning stroll in Bond Street.

All too soon, Mr. DeVine removed his supporting arms and applied his eye to a chink of light at one corner of a ground-floor window. Thea and Meg clung together at a cautious distance, guarded by George, Geoffrey, Billy, and Peter, all bursting with silent excitement. After a moment Will returned to them.

“Kilmore’s there all right,” he reported in a grim undertone. “He’s tied to a chair, and he’s been...and there are at least two ruffians in the room. You go in, Miss Kilmore. I feel much better about this whole business since I’ll be able to see what’s going on.”

Thea appreciated the reason for his optimism, but as she approached the door and he turned to give his troops their orders, she felt utterly deserted.

The man who answered her knock was no more than a hulking shadow. “So ’ere’s ’er ladyship,” he said mockingly. His breath was foul, his voice uneducated, not Mr. Vaughn’s. He grasped her wrist to draw her into the dark hall.

She winced at the rough handling and dropped the purse. It landed with a clink of coins. The man swiftly stooped to retrieve it. Thea wished she had provided herself with a poker, the more so when he next seized the jewellery case from her other hand. He glanced at the open front door, then slammed it.

“Nah,” he said with regret, “Vaughn’s got a nasty way wiv ’im when ’e’s miffed.” The case under one beefy arm, he grabbed her again and hustled her through the nearest door.

Vaguely aware of another ruffian moving in behind her, she found herself face to face with Mr. Vaughn. Hastily she dropped her head, which was covered by the cloak’s hood. Not only was he an alarming and repellent sight, but she did not want him to guess she was not his niece.