Rogue Countess (33 page)

She suddenly knew without a doubt that Olivia was behind Jude’s kidnapping. And she knew exactly where he was being kept.

“Hastings! Randall!” Energy sped through her. This time the shouting was unnecessary, as the devoted servants stood just inside the door already awaiting her orders.

Anna reached for some paper on her desk and started writing.

Her sister might sink to some deceitful and malicious levels, but surely she was not capable of bringing physical harm to anyone. Was she?

Considering the amount of money being requested for Jude’s return, Olivia had to be acting out of a sense of desperation. Maybe this was just another of her schemes gone terribly off course. Anna suddenly remembered the scene she had witnessed between her sister and the duke. Had it really only been last night? It seemed like a lifetime ago already. But Anna was certain the scene was somehow a part of what was happening now. She could not fathom how Olivia’s debt had gotten so grossly out of control, but she could believe that her sister would resort to kidnapping if she thought it would solve her problem. Olivia had always believed herself to be immune to the consequences of her own actions. This was likely no exception.

Anna prayed that her sister’s lack of conscience did not extend to the physical violence she threatened in the ransom note. She ignored the cold fingers of fear that trailed down her spine. Olivia was selfish, greedy, at times even deluded, but Anna had to believe she wasn’t truly dangerous.

Why on earth had Jude gone with her? Had Olivia coerced him? Seduced him? Anna forced the upsetting questions aside to focus on the plan forming in her head. First, she would bring Jude safely home, then she would make sure he knew just how stupid he had been for getting into the situation in the first place.

After a moment, she straightened from her task and turned toward the senior footman, handing him a folded note that she had closed hastily with her seal.

“Bring this directly to the Duke of Clavering, make sure its urgency is made clear and that it is delivered directly to his hand, and then come straight back here for further instructions from Hastings. Go,” she said, and the man turned to rush from the room, sliding the note into the inner pocket of his coat.

“Hastings,” she said as she handed the butler a separate set of instructions. “I need you to do whatever you have to do to acquire these funds.” She bent back over the desk to write yet a third message. “I don’t care how you manage it, just be quick.” She straightened and handed him the last piece of paper. “Once you have the money, send it in a carriage with Randall to this address. That is where I will be. And if my suspicions are correct, Lord Blackbourne will be there as well.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The house was quiet and dark and still. It looked as though no one had entered its gate in all of the years since her father’s death.

Anna sat on horseback, hiding in the shadows just down the street. Her thumb rubbed back and forth over the surface of her reins in a subconscious attempt to soothe the impatient energy that urged her to charge the front door.

She took a deep breath, wishing there were a way to subdue the raw fear in her gut.

She had been here for nearly ten minutes, watching the place. And nothing had moved. No one had come or gone. She had ridden all the way around the property and seen no one outside, no evidence of horse or carriage. Being only late afternoon, it was far too light outside to be able to tell if any lights were lit within. There was no indication the house was anything but abandoned.

Its very nature made it the perfect hideout. It was not far from Mayfair, where the ransom was to be dropped, and yet to any casual passerby, it appeared innocuous and wouldn’t draw a second glance.

Anna slid from her horse’s back, sending a silent but fervent prayer that she would find both Jude and Olivia inside the dark and silent structure. If she was completely wrong, and the kidnapper was not her sister at all, she assured herself that at least she still had a couple hours to deliver the ransom.

She approached the house on foot, hoping her presence would not be detected by anyone inside. She had decided to go around back and try some windows and doors. She needed to get inside and ascertain the situation without being noticed.

Her heart beat at a steadily increasing rate as she crept around the silent brick house toward the rear entrance. She thought maybe she saw some evidence of fresh footprints disturbing the dirt around the side of the house, but she couldn’t be sure. When she got to the servant’s door that went into the kitchen, she held her breath and tried the handle. She could barely believe it when the door opened without hesitation.

Anna stopped and listened, then stepped into the house, allowing the door to close silently behind her.

The interior of the house was dim. Only thin streams of light pierced through the cracks and around the edges of the covered windows. The air smelled stale and musty.

The small kitchen was empty, devoid even of the large oak table that had taken up much of the floor space when the house had been in use.

She walked across the room toward the hall that led to the rest of the house. She heard nothing but the heavy thudding of her pulse through her ears. The place felt empty. Anna’s heart clenched with painful despair. What if she had been wrong?

Shoving aside the chilling doubt, she cautiously proceeded into the main part of the house, and turned toward the small study. Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she scanned her surroundings, looking for some evidence of recent intrusion. Although the rest of the furniture in the study was covered with dustsheets, her father’s desk was exposed. She rushed toward it on silent feet.

The stationery box was open and pages of parchment littered the desk. Anna reached forward and picked up a narrow scrap dominated by blood-red scrollwork and Edward Locke’s initials. It was the matching piece to the ransom note.

Her heart raced.

She retraced her steps to the hall, feeling a rush of renewed confidence. If Jude had been brought back here, where would he be kept? She glanced toward the stairs. Even from several paces away, she could see layers of undisturbed dust coating the mahogany steps. She looked down at the floor and nearly shouted in relief when she saw an obvious path where the dust had been swiped away. It looked as though something, or someone, had been dragged across the floor.

Anna stopped herself from thinking about what that might indicate and followed the path. It led to the stairs that led down to the cellar.

She stopped and listened before starting down the curved and narrow staircase. Not a single sound echoed through the vacant space. From what she remembered, there was not much in the lower level of the house. A small wine cellar, some other small rooms for various types of storage. Her ears were sharp and alert as she descended the steps, but still she heard nothing.

He
had
to be here.

The basement was damp and dark and Anna wished she had thought to bring a light source down with her. There was a small open space at the bottom of the steps and from there a narrow hallway led to the smaller rooms. Anna reached the last step and just as she turned to start down the hall toward the first room, her booted foot brushed past something large on the floor. She peered down and it took a moment to discern what lay at her feet in the darkness.

“Oh God, Jude,” she whispered in shock as she crouched to the floor.

He lay on his side as if he had simply been thrown down the stairs and left to lie as he fell. She reached out to him, a hard lump of fear stopping up her throat. He wasn’t moving and his eyes were closed. She leaned in close to his face and listened for his breath. He was breathing, but he was definitely unconscious. She moved her hands over his body, searching for injuries. She immediately noted that his hands were pulled behind his back and had been tied with rope. She felt around his skull and found his hair matted to his head on the left side. Her hands came away sticky with blood.

He had been hurt. But he was alive.

Relief and terror warred within her. She had found him, but the circumstances were far worse than she had expected. And she still needed to figure out a way to get him out of here.

She reached for him again, her fingers searching around his scalp for the wound. She found it at his temple. It was an angry gash about two inches long, starting at the corner of his forehead and extending into his hair. She willed herself to remain calm though her fear was growing. She didn’t think he had lost that much blood or surely she would have seen evidence of it through the house. The wound may not be very bad. Just enough, perhaps, to knock him out. From what she could tell it had stopped bleeding.

Jude groaned as her fingers gently probed the edges of the wound. She leaned over him and pressed her hand to the side of his face.

“Jude. It’s me, Anna. I need you to wake up,” she urged in quiet whispers.

But he was silent once more. Anna reached around him to the ropes binding his wrists. They were tightly tied, but she worked at the knot with stiff fingers, and it started to loosen.

“Step away from him. Now!”

The shouted words startled Anna and sent a flush of hot fear through her blood.

She cursed herself for missing her sister’s approach. She had just lost whatever upper hand she may have had. Without standing or moving away from Jude, Anna turned to watch Olivia slowly come down the stairs behind her. She carried a small lantern in one hand and in the other, a pistol. The weapon effectively captured Anna’s attention for a heart-stopping moment, but then Anna forced herself to notice other things.

Olivia, who insisted upon putting an inordinate amount of effort into always looking her absolute best, was alarmingly disheveled. Her gown was crumpled and creased beyond repair, her hair was falling crookedly from what had been an elaborate coiffure about twelve hours before, and her face was pale and blotchy where her makeup had worn off.

“My God, Olivia. What is going on?” she muttered in shock.

“Shut up,” Olivia shouted with heedless temper. “I said to step away from him.”

Anna slowly stood. Keeping her eyes on Olivia, she sidestepped until she was several paces from where Jude lay. Her sister kept the gun trained on her the entire time.

“What are you doing, Olivia?” Anna asked warily, trying to keep an even tone. “You don’t need to point a gun at me. I am here to help you.”

Olivia laughed, and it was a wild, hysterical sound that frightened Anna more than the sight of the pistol. Her sister’s state of mind was much worse than Anna had imagined. She had underestimated the situation by drastic degrees and she wished she had considered bringing some type of weapon herself or even waited for Randall to accompany her.

“You are such a horrible liar,” Olivia accused with a humorless smile as she set the lantern on a lower step. An unstable golden glow was cast into the dank space, creating deep and menacing shadows in every corner. “You are here to ruin my plans.” The false amusement faded from her face. “If you wished to help me, you would have followed the instructions in the note. Why didn’t you follow the instructions, Anna? You were not supposed to come here. You were never to know I was involved. Are you really that stupid? Do you realize the danger you have just brought upon yourself?” Olivia’s tone grew angrier as she spoke. She emphasized her words with a sharp jerk of the weapon in her hand as she stalked past Jude’s prone form toward Anna.

Anna retreated until her back came up against the cold, damp stone wall behind her. She refrained from pointing out that Jude still would have known who had perpetrated the plot. Bringing that to her sister’s attention now would do far more harm than good. At worst, Olivia had already realized that the entire situation was spiraling out of her control and simply didn’t care.

Anna lifted her hands in a gesture of passivity and shook her head.

“The money is coming. It is on its way here. I promise. I told you I wanted to help you, I am telling the truth.”

Olivia eyed her silently, and when she replied her voice was dark and heavy with revulsion. “You are not here to help me,” she spat in disgust. “You are here for your precious prince, aren’t you? You are here to save him,” she said with a careless wave of the gun in Jude’s direction.

Anna stiffened in sharp apprehension and her increased tension did not escape Olivia’s notice.

Her sister smirked and continued arrogantly, “I am not blind, you know. Did you really think your insipid little infatuation could go unnoticed? Father and I used to laugh for hours over the ridiculous longing in your eyes whenever Jude came around. It was so pathetically obvious how you mooned over him, you were such an ugly little thing,” Olivia laughed in delight. Then she cocked her head to the side. “You know, if not for your blatant love for my betrothed, I may never have thought of using you to get rid of him.”

Anna felt sick to her stomach at the note of pride in Olivia’s voice. But her sister’s rambling reminiscence did give her an idea. If she could keep her sister talking, perhaps she could steal enough time to think of some way to reason with her. Or maybe at the very least, delay to the point when Randall arrived.

“And whose idea was it to use the laudanum?”

“Mine,” Olivia admitted. “Father thought you might go along with the plan willingly, but I warned him against it. Better to dose you with laudanum as well, I told him.”