Saving Persephone (The Haberdashers Book 4) (12 page)

Imogen felt waves of rage pouring off the brigand. She walked forward and picked up the shawl that the duchess had cast aside when drawing her weapon. As much as it hurt to do so, she looked at him. “You’re wondering if she is capable of killing, and I can assure you that she is. I would prefer not to see any death today.”

His eyes fixed on her and she could feel him assessing her. He ordered his men in French to stand down.

“Go home, John,” the duchess called out.

“Your grace,” the driver protested.

“Don’t argue, John.”

The driver regretfully turned the carriage to rattle away on the packed dirt road. Once the conveyance was lost in the failing light, the duchess relaxed her stance. “I’m glad to see you can be reasonable.”

Imogen sensed the man’s intentions too late to warn Sabre. His uppercut caught the duchess by surprise and she stumbled back. He wrested the gun from her after a brief struggle. Feeling his rage, Imogen had a moment of complete panic as his hand closed over the weapon. Rather than attacking the women, however, he pointed it up the road and fired where the sound of carriage wheels could still be heard. He roared at his men in French, and three of the brigands rushed to do his bidding.

The duchess clearly understood him. “Just remember that if he dies, so do you.”

Pushed too far, a wild animal in a corner, the brigand struck the duchess so viciously that she was thrown into the muck at their feet.

“Sabre?” George asked. Imogen could feel the struggle the blonde had not to act on her instincts and attack the men who held swords on them. Certainly it couldn’t go well, one woman with knives against six armed men.

“No, George,” the duchess replied, sitting up and brushing at the mud on her dress.

“Get on the boat,” their captor shouted, followed by an impressive array of French curse words. Some of the only French that Imogen understood.

“I don’t want to get on that bloody boat,” George said. Imogen could feel that the tension, combined with the idea of being trapped, was getting to her.

Their captor was only getting angrier. He seized the countess by the hair and shoved the gun at her belly. Even though it had already been spent, Imogen felt the waves of panic from Jack.

“Let go of her,” George shouted, reaching into her sleeves. Sabre flung herself in front of her blonde friend.

“Let’s get on the boat,” the duchess said urgently. “Let them have Jack get on the boat.”

Still shaking from anger, George nodded. Imogen swallowed her fear and walked over to fetch the countess from their captor.

Chapter Twenty-One

After hours on the road, Robert was frustrated. They knew where the carriage had been ambushed and the general direction it had taken afterwards, but the trail seemed to have gone cold. They were much further east than he expected the captors would take the girls. It was tempting to pull in his agents, but the more people who knew what he was doing, the harder it would be to control the information. The men with him seemed similarly impatient and he knew that without direction from him they would eventually begin to use their own creativity. That was something he was intent on not allowing.

“We should consider stopping for the night,” his brother said to him
sotto voce
.

Robert looked over his shoulder before turning his attention back to Charlie. “So that one of these bastards can slip out and do Lord only knows what?”

Charlie snorted. “We’re all worried, Robert.”

“We’re almost to Canvey Island, and I’m no more sure they came this way than any other.”

“We’ll find them.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because God doesn’t want England torn apart brick by brick, which we all know you’re perfectly capable of doing. There’s a light ahead, I’ll go see if it’s another inn.”

Robert nodded and allowed Charlie to ride ahead. He knew that his brother was as impatient to find the Haberdashers as himself. Would Robert tear England apart to look for them? Most likely, if that was required. He wished he had the faith and good spirits that his brother found so effortless.

* * *

“I don’t like this,” George said again, as the women crowded in a small cabin waiting for the crew to get the boat underway.

The duchess took a deep breath. “And your impatience is why Jack and I could always beat you at War.”

“This isn’t a game,” George hissed. “You've already been injured and John is most likely going to die.”

“My injuries are no worse than if I’d fallen from a tree, and try to have some faith in John.”

The countess laced her fingers with the blonde’s, who frowned at their hands but didn’t pull away. Imogen was impressed that, for all their arguing, the three women continued to work as a united force. The duchess was clearly their leader, with the countess serving as her trusted advisor, and the blonde as their restless eyes and ears. They behaved as though being ambushed and abducted, even beaten, was little worse than being caught out in a thunderstorm while shopping.

It was full dark now, with a dim lantern their only illumination. Imogen heard hoofbeats and shortly there were men speaking in French on the dock. She couldn’t quite make out what they were saying but George laughed.

“They can’t find him,” the blonde said. ”He cut one of the horses loose to ride.”

The duchess nodded. “See?” She poked her friend in the ribs with an elbow.

“Only two came back, though. One will continue to search for him,” George reported.

“You’d best hope my man lives,” Sabre called out.

Rather than respond, their captor ordered the men to cast off.

Imogen didn’t mean to speak up, but couldn’t stop herself. “You must stop tormenting our abductor.”

The duchess met her eyes and Imogen felt an icy chill run through her. “No, he must stop tormenting
me
. Whatever business is to be conducted at the end of this journey, this man most likely has no stake beyond his payment. He would be best off remembering that, rather than risk losing his life.”

Imogen was impressed with the younger woman’s force of will, but wanted to shake her and preach sense. They were facing danger of uncertain origin and Imogen had little confidence in their safety. Look at what they had already faced! The duchess struck, the countess’s babe threatened. The younger women’s foolhardy confidence seemed to inspire her sense of protectiveness. All she wanted was for them to live through this, to one day be able to look back and, if not laugh, at least tell the story with some relief in a positive conclusion. That outcome seemed far from likely if the duchess insisted on baiting a bear.

* * *

Robert went on alert as Charlie galloped back.

“One of the horses from Sabre’s team is in front of the inn,” his brother reported.

“Are you certain?” the duke asked.

Charlie was offended. “I recognize my horses as easily as I do family members.”

Robert looked at the men around him. “Gideon, you and Casimir go the rear of the inn, should we need assistance from that quarter. Your grace, if you could stay mounted to ensure that we can give chase to anyone who should try to escape by road?”

The duke nodded.

“Charlie and I will go in to find out what is going on.”

“Be careful,” the earl admonished.

“You as well,” Robert said, spurring his horse forward. He waited until the two men had gone around to the back of the building before entering the front door of the inn. The entry was dim and smelled mildly of fish and grease. He heard voices rumbling in what he assumed was the tavern. Walking down a short, dark hallway, they found the public room. It had a low ceiling of dark timbers and smoke stained walls. A large fireplace dominated one side of the room and no less than ten men crowded around two large tables. Looking around the room, Robert didn’t see anyone who could be his sister, not even with her best disguises.

A voice called out, “Master Charlie?”

Robert didn’t recognize the voice at first, most likely as it was pinched from tension, but he recognized John easily enough when the man stumbled from the corner. John saw Robert, then, as well. The combination of relief and terror on the man’s face was confirmation enough for Robert that John knew precisely what had happened.

“Innkeep! We require a private sitting room.”

A matron hustled out from a nearby hall. “Begging your pardon, milord, but we don’t as such-”

“My friends and I require a private sitting room for the next hour or so. You will provide that.”

“Perhaps you could use our family-”

“That will be adequate. Convey us there, please.” Turning to Charlie, Robert said. “Get the other men. We will have this story once and make our plans.”

Charlie nodded and left the way they had come.

Although looking somewhat aghast at Robert’s highhanded manner, the innkeep ushered him and John through more dark hallways and unlocked a doorway. “Just in here, milord.”

Robert took in the shabby
,
if homey room at a glance and nodded to the matron.

“Will you and your men need something to eat, milord?”

“Yes, that would be useful.”

She bowed out of the room, leaving Robert with his sister’s most loyal retainer, her carriage driver. John seemed intent on looking anywhere other than Robert himself. Although upset, the man didn’t seem overcome with grief, as Robert would expect him to be if Sabre had come to a bad end. That served to loosen some of the tension Robert had felt growing as their search dragged on.

Apparently unable to stand the silence, John said, “Mr. Bittlesworth, I never meant-”

“Wait.” Robert insisted.

John bit his lip and nodded. In a few moments the rest of the men filed into the room. As soon as the duke saw the coachman he demanded, “Where is she?”

Having grown up in the Bittlesworth household, John looked at Robert first for a nod before starting.

“We were set upon in the woods, halfway to Belle Fleur, your grace. Nine men on horseback. They had come for her grace. She told me to do as they asked, and we took the east road.” John twisted his cap in his hands. “We traveled for some hours, your grace, to a dock.”

Robert cut in. “They’re on a ship?”

John nodded. “Yes, sir. Boarded at the coast near here not two hours ago.”

Gideon swore and ran his hands through his hair.

“How did you come to be here?” Robert asked.

“At the dock, her grace saved me. Their leader was going to kill me and she pulled a gun on him, sir.”

The duke gave a sickly smile. “Yes, that sounds like her.”

“He didn’t look too happy about it, I can say that, your grace. But that other lady, the red-haired one, spoke to him, too, and that’s when her grace told me I had to leave.” John’s voice cracked. “I didn’t want to, your grace, but..”

The duke put a hand on the driver’s shoulder. “It’s good you did, John, otherwise we wouldn’t know where to look for them.”

“On the
ocean
,” Gideon groused. “That helps such a great deal.”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you much more, my Lord. The men didn’t speak English other than the leader, so I don’t know what they were saying. It was French, I think.”

Robert turned to Casimir. “Your friend LeBeau?”

“I would prefer you didn’t call him my friend, but as likely as not.”

“There is one more thing,” John said. “Once I was some distance away I heard a gunshot, and then he sent riders after me. That was when I cut Brutus loose to ride. This was the first public house I came to and I thought to hide here while Brutus rested.”

“Good man,” Charlie said. Looking over to Robert he said, “See? God didn’t want you tearing all of England apart.”

Robert was in no mood for his brother’s good-natured teasing, as one phrase kept repeating in his mind.
'That other lady, the red-haired one, spoke to him, too.’
It seemed likely that Imogen was involved. That she had, indeed, worked with LeBeau on this trap as he feared. That he had unwittingly drawn an asp close to his family.

“Charlie, you need to go home.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

A knock at the door was unexpected enough that the men jumped. Casimir recovered and opened the door to find the matron and her son bringing in food. Robert didn’t want to eat. His sister was still missing, in danger, and it was his fault. One of the Haberdashers may have been shot. Perhaps Sabre herself? Had it been Miss Grant to pull the trigger? His fear burned like a cinder in the back of his throat. His lover had captured his sister to use against him, but he would be damned if he would sacrifice Charlie as well. Not able to stand the cramped quarters and press of people any longer, Robert quit the room.

* * *

Casimir watched Robert Bittlesworth leave the room and turned to the man’s brother. “Where is he going?”

Charlie finished off a meat pasty and a good draught of his ale. “That’s an excellent question.”

“Shouldn’t we find out?”

“In a moment. Pursuing Robert too quickly when he’s in a temper is a fine way to get bitten.”

“That’s him in a temper?”

“One of the worst I’ve ever seen. It’s too bad we don’t have a war to distract him.”

Casimir rested his shoulder against the wall and considered the younger Bittlesworth brother. Tall and athletic. Fair where his siblings were dark. Almost unfailingly cheerful. If Casimir were not a creature attenuated to seeking advantage, it was Charlie who would be the most logical friend for him among all the men here. They were similar in that they could usually find the humor in any situation.

“The two most distracting things,” Casimir said, “are war and women.”

Charlie finished his ale. “I’m worried that he’s already distracted by the latter.”

“His lover? This Miss Grant?”

“Sabre told me that this Miss Grant has made Robert change his rules.”

“And that is a bad thing?”

Charlie shrugged. “Good? Bad? Who am I to say? But different. And Robert doesn’t do different.”