Reckless in Pink (31 page)

Swiftly, Dominic told them what Alconbury had said. Val joined them. Dominic’s plan was in shreds, but he couldn’t take the risk.

Julius confronted Alconbury, the son of his worst enemy. They stood, nose to nose, dark and fair, glaring at each other.

“You believe this man?” Julius said quietly.

“I can’t risk it. If Val stepped in that house and Claudia was there, they’d set off the mines and kill her. If we storm it, they’ll have us all. If Alconbury is lying, we have him.”

Alconbury sneered. “You believe I’d offer myself up? No. I’d prefer that my father was not responsible for exploding half of one of London’s best known streets and taking half the inhabitants with it. I can’t see that is in anyone’s interests.” He shook his head. “I have a concern for my family, but I will not let this happen. A man is waiting by the back door,” Alconbury said. “As soon as anyone enters by the front door—it’s unlocked, by the way—he will set the mines and run.”

Dominic glanced at Darius who nodded and raced off.

The men stood in a row, crowding Alconbury so he could not get away. They did not speak. The seconds ticked off, slowly, but Darius returned in ten minutes accompanied by Max, who was stationed at the end of the street. He grimaced. “He’s right,” he said, jerking his head at Alconbury. “Now what?”

“This isn’t the only house.” Cold fury coursing through him, Dominic shoved Julius aside and confronted Alconbury. “Where is she?”

“Where is who?” Alconbury seemed genuinely perplexed, frowning at him.

“My wife.”

He was close enough to see the genuine shock in the earl’s face. “Your wife?”

“Your father abducted her.”

“I wondered at the increased activity.” Alconbury groaned and sighed heavily. “I had no idea.”

“You expect us to believe that?” Julius demanded. His jaw clenched and his eyes flashed anger in the dim light cast from the houses nearby and the soft light of early evening. Dusk had fallen, but this street was narrow and never admitted much light even on the brightest day.

“Believe what you like. If their trap fails, your wife’s life is in more danger.”

“You will tell us,” Dominic growled. He gripped the folds of Alconbury’s neckcloth and twisted, tightening the strip of linen. “There’s your choice. Tell us where she is or die here, where you stand.”

“No choice,” Alconbury said, although his voice had tightened considerably. “I can’t tell you if you strangle me.”

Dominic loosened the neckcloth enough to allow him to talk.

Alconbury took a couple of deep breaths. “She’s not here. I have men watching another house, deeper into the City, in Spitalfields. Yesterday a group of women went in. My man counted six going in but only five came out. They were close enough to carry someone.” He growled. “Do you think I want to see this? I will not be accounted responsible. That house is unknown to my father or me. We are not involved in a scheme so crass. Yes, crass.” He shot a withering glare at Julius. “He understands.”

Julius nodded, but said nothing, only jerked his head for Alconbury to continue. “We heard from our sources that the government intends to bring the Prince to trial this time. Or rather, Bute does.”

At the mention of the chief advisor to the Princess of Wales, rumored in some quarters to be her lover, Julius’s head went back. “Unfortunately that makes sense.” He spoke softly, venom infusing every syllable. It was clear how much he hated working with Alconbury or accepting that anything he said was true.

He had to. Now, Alconbury was their only hope. “Take us to the house,” Dominic said.

They set off, ostensibly a group of men on the town, as so many others around them were. Although early, the great piazza of Covent Garden was already alive with people.

Dominic and Val brought up the rear. Darius and Julius walked either side of Alconbury, who carried on talking and Max followed.

“Tonight, at least we want the same things,” Alconbury said. “I want to stop any bloodshed and get the Prince out of the country. I cannot see any purpose in him staying and getting himself taken.”

The kidnappers wanted the papers. It had taken an hour to make copies. Since there were copies in the first place, they didn’t have to work too hard. Then they’d frayed and roughened the edges, and stained them. Enough to make them look twenty or more years old.

Dominic had brought one original. His birth certificate, the one his parents had given to him. He had plans for it. He hadn’t told anyone what he would do, because most likely they would not approve. Particularly Julius.

“What do you want?”

“To get the Prince out of the country. To prevent any bloodshed. My father wishes that, too. He is not yet ready.” Alconbury snapped out the words, as if they hurt him.

“I want my wife back.” That was the objective he would not give in.

Alconbury shot him a glance. “I will help you with that.”

“I have a weapon trained on you,” Val murmured from behind. “Your own, as it happens. One false move and I won’t hesitate to shoot.”

Alconbury gave a mock wince. “Ouch.”

“I on the other hand,” Dominic said smoothly, “am wondering whether to take off your right hand or gouge out your eyes. Killing you would lead to an arrest and trial. However, if you are set upon by footpads and injured, that is the nature of London, is it not? I could lead you into St. Giles rookery and dare you to find your way out.”

“Now that,” Alconbury said, “Is a real threat.”

They had crossed the square and reached the streets beyond. On one side, the Hart Street side, the streets eventually gave way to the shopping areas. Then the residences of the well to do and the rich. On this side, it led to the legal district, and then the City, the warren of streets that contained much of the wealth that had built London. Max’s kingdom. He was married to a daughter of one of the wealthiest men, and he had built his fortune on investments and insurance after his father’s depredations. He knew this area better than the others. Therefore, after Alconbury had given the address, he led the way.

It wasn’t far.

Just past Lincoln’s Inn Fields lay a narrow street lined in respectable houses. A quiet residential area, with the occasional coffee shop, it was one of the streets rebuilt after the fire of nearly a hundred years before. The houses were built of golden stone, the windows and doors faced with white stones. Tranquil next to the bustle of Covent Garden. Deceptively so.

Alconbury halted at the end of the street. “It’s at the other end. Number seven. This is one of the more private places the Prince frequents.” He paused. “My father owns it.”

A low rumble indicated Julius’s growl. “What do you suggest?”

“They know me. If Lady St. Just is not there, they are likely to know where she has gone, although I think she’s inside. I will take two of you in with me. Not you—” He glanced at Julius. “You are too well-known.”

“I go,” Dominic said. He would not budge on that. However, Alconbury nodded. “Without the wig and fashionable trappings, you look entirely different.”

“That was the idea,” Dominic said laconically. Now he was so close, his throat tightened and a familiar sensation zinged through his veins.

With the ease of long practice, he captured that feeling, used it to hone his warrior edge. He touched his sword hilt—not his dress sword but a good army weapon. This would have taken off Alconbury’s hand at a single stroke. It still might.

He wore a dark green country coat without the exaggeration of the skirts and huge cuffs. Linen adorned his wrists instead of lace. As Alconbury had said, he’d left off his wig.

He did indeed appear entirely different. Northwich might recognize him, but he’d have to risk the duke being present. If he was named, he was more than ready to fight his way out.

“I’ll go,” Val said. He had a reputation in society for recklessness, worse than his sister, but that could make him useful. Or dangerous. It was less likely that one twin would be recognized where people were used to two.

“Yes,” Alconbury said. “You two. The house has much the same pattern of rooms as any other in London. If they have her, it will be upstairs, where it’s less easy to escape.”

“And if they do not?”

“I’ll find out.”

Their only hope was in their avowed enemy. Alconbury had the ingress into this place, and he could question without resistance. After he had found her, Dominic had one more task to achieve. Far less important.

Darius, Max, and Julius disposed themselves in the street around the house.

Alconbury led Dominic and Val to the house and rapped on the door, using a series of complex knocks and taps. Dominic memorized them.

Someone opened the door cautiously and held a lamp out to illuminate Alconbury’s face. He stood his ground, but frowned. “Let me in, you fool!”

That did the trick. The door opened enough for him to pass through. When he would have barred Dominic and Val, Alconbury knocked the man’s arm aside. “Let them in. Is my father here?”

“No, sir.” It spoke for the establishment that they didn’t call Alconbury “my lord.” Clandestine indeed.

Dominic breathed out in relief. The one person who would know him for sure was absent.

The door closed behind them, revealing a narrow hallway lit by the lantern the man who had let them in was holding. Without another word, he turned and led the way up an equally narrow staircase to a room at the front of the house on the first floor. It would be considered spacious by many. With the man inside and the three who entered, it was full.

Dominic gritted his teeth and followed Alconbury’s example of bowing low to the man who called himself prince. He stood back, as befitted a bodyguard or lesser companion. All the better to shoot the man, if he made a false move.

This room was much better furnished than the one in Hart Street. Fine furnishings and delicate china adorned the place, as well as the cut glass from which the prince drank deeply. The ruby liquid glistened in the light of the expensive beeswax candles that festooned the sconces and holders.

“You are come for a reason, Alconbury?” he asked.

He didn’t even asked to be introduced to Dominic and Val. They kept their heads down, but of necessity they had taken off their hats. The prince spared them barely a glance. He had pale blue protuberant eyes, most unlike Dominic’s. Meeting his half-brother in these circumstances unnerved him more than he had thought. Did this man know who was legitimate and who the bastard?

“The house?” the Pretender asked.

“Is still standing, sir. At least it was when I left.”

Max had sent a message to some people he knew. If they were successful, the house would be standing for some time to come.

“A pity. I grow bored, Alconbury. Something had better happen soon.”

Alconbury glanced away. Dominic had positioned himself so he could see the side of his face and gauge his expression. Trained to observe every little detail, he put all his expertise to use now. “Sir, you have initiated action. At least, I assume you have done so. I heard this afternoon that the wife of Lord St. Just is missing. Abducted, some say.”

“What does his lordship say?” He glanced toward Dominic.

“You can guess.”

The men exchanged a long, grave look, but neither of them said anything.

A shuffling sound came from above. More inhabitants. Dominic tried hard not to get his hopes up. After all, this house would contain a number of people, set here to protect and provide cover for the Young Pretender. He would probably move in a few days. At least, if Dominic had charge of him, that was what he’d do. How many more houses were there? How long before he found her?

“How did you take her?” he asked smoothly.

“We got her out of the back gate.”

“We?” Alconbury raised a brow.

The Pretender shrugged. “My men.” He glanced at Dominic. “I want some things you would probably not give me without a little…persuasion.”

“Sir, you should have waited for us to act on your behalf,” Alconbury said, his dark eyes glinting. “You cannot kill her.”

“Can I not? I have heard rumors I have to confirm before I give myself up.”

“You are determined on that course, then, sir?”

Stuart shrugged. “I am.”

Alconbury sighed. “I cannot help but think it is a dangerous gesture.”

Stuart’s jowls quivered and his color rose. “What do I care for danger? A public trial will put my claims at the forefront of people’s minds. They will not kill me. They will not dare. At present, Europe is balanced on a knife-edge and my father holds considerable influence. My case will be heard.”

“Sir, they will arrest you and lock you up. Remember the case of Mary, Queen of Scots. She was an honorable guest of the Crown for over twenty years.”

Stuart snorted. “She was betrayed by France.”

“As you were, sir.”

King Louis of France had left Stuart on the quayside at Calais. Although the Old Pretender had ordered his son to retreat, since he had lost France’s support, the Young Pretender had left anyway. He’d come far too damned close. He was finished, and desperate. Also, considering Dominic had seen him three times before, he appeared permanently drunk.

A feminine voice called out once. Too brief for him to identify, but a woman.

“You brought a her here?” Alconbury asked smoothly.

The Young Pretender glanced up. “She will not settle, however much we tell her she will come to no harm,” he said viciously.

Dominic suppressed his smile.

“You have men guarding her, I presume?” Alconbury smiled and relaxed his hands by his sides.

If Stuart didn’t know the signs of imminent attack, Dominic did. Alconbury was preparing to strike.

“Naturally.”

Enough. Dominic stepped forward, drew his gun, and held it to the side of the Young Pretender’s head. The man’s arrogance was stupendous. “You will have her brought here.”

“I beg your pardon, sir! Pray step back!”

Val drew his weapon—one of them at any rate—and held it to Alconbury. “I’m afraid he cannot. Have her brought down.”

Despite the weapon, Stuart turned his head and confronted Dominic. He smiled, a stretching of full lips that revealed dingy teeth. “Another brother,” he said. “I am right, am I not?”