The House in Grosvenor Square (41 page)

It didn't seem right that there was brick dust on her floor after Mrs. Hamilton had sent her from the room. With a sudden look of realization, she stopped in her tracks and backed quietly away from the housekeeper's door. Was Mr. Frederick in his chamber? A light from beneath his doorway showed that he was. Looking back toward the housekeeper's room, she knocked lightly on the butler's door. To his “come in,” she opened it and found him sitting before the fire with a newspaper open on his lap.

“Look,” he said, referring to an item in the news. “The master's wedding announcement! It's here in the paper, directly following those lies about an elopement! The right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing!”

“Oh, heavens!” she said, duly impressed, coming around to gape at the spot, though Molly couldn't read to save her life.

Mr. Frederick seemed very kind all of a sudden. “Can you read?” he asked gently.

“No, sir.”

He looked at her appraisingly. “Well, no matter. What did you want, Molly?”

“Sir!” The little waif said, her eyes large and anxious. “Can you come to me room? I 'av to show you somthin'.”

He looked at her very thoughtfully. “What sort of something?”

“Please, sir! I think Mrs. 'amilton 'as been in me room, sir!”

He shook his head. “Molly, I see nothing wrong in that. If Mrs. Hamilton has been to your room, she must have had a reason.”

“Aye, sir! A secret 'un.” Her eyes pleaded with him, and she took the further bold step of pulling his hand and moving toward the door. Mr. Frederick's heart softened, and he allowed her to persuade him.

Minutes later she had told him what had happened, which of course he remembered, as he was the one to unlock the tea cabinet. Annoying that was too. Mrs. Hamilton couldn't possibly purchase the fine quality of tea the Paragon used. It was bought from the highest channels of imports and used by the Regent too. But he could hardly leave her with none, so he'd unlocked the cabinet and spared a little.

Now in Molly's room, she showed him the brick. He held up his candle and stuck it toward the hollow, and his eyes widened. He pulled forth the necklace, then the pistol—which he recognized. He exhanged looks with Molly, whose wide eyes were opened fully in dismay. A few other items followed, all valuable. The pile of guineas in a cloth tied with a small string raised his eyebrows exceedingly. When he was certain there was nothing else, he wrapped everything that would fit into a handkerchief and put other things into his pockets. He leaned down in front of the little maid.

“Thank you, Molly. The master shall hear of this and of your part in it.” He stood up then, with a little worried frown on his face. “The thing is, how do we catch Mrs. Hamilton? She may simply deny all knowledge of this. In fact,” he looked down at Molly, “she may blame you.”

“Oh, not
me
, sir! I would
never
, sir!”

“No, I don't believe you would,” he said. “Don't you worry, Molly. We'll get to the bottom of this!” He paused. “To think that Mrs. Hamilton cast suspicion upon our future mistress for these items! God forgive me for ever listening to that woman!”

Mornay's carriage came to a stop, and Holliwell jumped down from atop the board. He went to its owner. “Sir, the easiest and best way to get information around here is to pay for it.” This he said with a knowing look.

“Of course,” Mornay murmured. He dug into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out some guineas and crowns and started handing them round. “Use what you must, gentlemen, and run to the street and fire a shot in the air if you find the ladies or the man we seek! Time is of the essence, for every minute the women are in his power puts them at risk and, needless to say, must be horrifying for them.”

“Sir!” Again it was Holliwell. “If I find my brother first, may I reason with him to give up the ladies? If he puts up no fight, I will not turn him in.”

“You gave me your word earlier, Holliwell, that you would help me put an end to this business. If your brother is not taken into custody, I will have no assurance that this will end tonight. I'm afraid that's out of the question.”

“May I at least give him the assurance that he will be sent to America a free man if he cooperates with us and returns the ladies unharmed? If he's transported, it will be a life of labor. The man is a marquess, after all, Mr. Mornay.”

He remembered the words, “to execute upon them the judgment written,” and knew in his heart it was not going to happen. Wingate would put up a fight to the end and suffer the consequences, his judgment at the hands of English justice. Therefore it made no difference what he said to Holliwell. The young man would feel better if he thought his scheme might work. It was, after all, his brother whose life was at stake.

“Make it India, sir, and I will allow that.” He looked at the law officers, one of whom was frowning severely.

“If I come upon him first, depend upon it, I'll haul him off to Newgate and recommend him for the hulks, sir! 'E's of the nobility, but his crime tonight is despicable!”

Mornay nodded. “Agreed.” In a bracing tone, he gave the rally, “Let us get this thing done!” The men scattered, having agreed to take different houses, different shadowy corners of the area, and started scouring them for sight or sign of Wingate or his prisoners.

Ariana and Miss Herley had been separated shortly after their captors had forced them into a crowded room in a run-down building. The entrance was only accessed from a narrow, garbage-strewn alley. The “door” wasn't a real doorway, but seemed to have been fashioned from a hole in the wall. Neither lady wanted to enter it, but both were feeling the cold metal of a gun barrel stuck in their sides and had no choice.

Inside the place was busy with the lower-classes at play. They heard raucous laughter from the dimly lit corridors. Ariana tried not to worry how they could ever be found in such a place but kept her spirits up by praying that angels would follow their every move and lead Mr. Mornay to them somehow.

To the girls' horror, Miss Herley was marched off with the other ruffian. She looked back at Ariana sorrowfully, with tears streaming down her face. Wingate took Ariana up a flight of stairs and then another and then yet one more to the top storey of the house.

“I must say, you are very calm. I have seen ladies go into hysterics. How is it you do not fear me?” Wingate asked.

She felt a stab of fear at his words, in fact, but kept it, as best she could, from her tone. They entered a dark room. She could see nothing, but she replied, “I gather you are desperate and after money. That does not make me fear you.” She paused, heard him shut and lock the door, and then while he lit a small candle, she said, “It makes me pity you, sir.”

He was startled for a moment and then angry. He turned on her, still holding the candle, and she could see that awful glint in his eyes. He put the light down and came over to her, a nasty look on his face. He took her by both arms—at that moment Ariana was indeed afraid.

“How dare you pity me! I am not desperate! I am fulfilling a wish I have long had—that of revenging myself on Mr. Mornay.” He stared at her for a moment, and she looked away. “Be you careful, Miss Forsythe, or I shall exact another form of revenge that would be treachery, indeed. He'd have to kill me for it, I dare say.”

She gasped and began silently praying. He released her arms, which were beginning to hurt where he'd held them, and she quickly moved away from him.

A sharp knock on the door made his head turn swiftly. “Be silent or I'll make you sorry for it!” he hissed instantly. He went over to her and pulled her so that she was against the wall, out of sight from the doorway. He took his pistol from his waistcoat and cocked it as quietly as he could.

“Who is it?” he called.

“Your friend, sir. Harold Chesley.”

Ariana's heart gave a leap! If Mr. Chesley saw her, surely he would help her!

“What the devil do you want?” His tone changed to irritability.

“To share a pint with you, m'lord! I believe I have reason to congratulate you!”

Wingate seemed to think about this a moment. Ariana, meanwhile, was desperately trying to decide if she should hazard a scream. It might be her only chance! But what if Wingate got angry enough to carry out his prior threat? She was frightened and didn't know what to do.

Suddenly he whispered in her ear. “If you make a sound, Miss Forsythe, I will take you and make you mine. Do you understand me?” When she made no reply, he shook her. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

He moved to the door. “What are you talking about?” His tone was guarded.

“Oh, come, sir! We share a certain…shall I say, disregard? For the same man. You have taken steps to express your poor opinion of him. I can only applaud that.”

Wingate's features lightened. Ariana's heart seemed to stop. What had she just heard? My word! Mr. Chesley was a devil, after all! Wingate took a look back at her, then unlocked the door, and peeked out just a little.

“Did you bring that pint?”

“I thought you'd join me downstairs.”

“Not tonight. And tell no one you've seen me, by the by. Upon your life.”

Chesley was surprised but cried, “Done. Not a word! I will go and procure something to your taste…and then return to you.”

“Very well. But remember not a word!”

Chesley took the steps with satisfaction. Soon he would know what's what.

He had seen Wingate in the dim light entering the house with a lady and couldn't help thinking of the recent episode when he'd had to save Lavinia from his grasp. He'd heard the man went into a rage at losing her. Though Miss Herley was not a love interest, she was one of the few ladies Mr. Chesley called a real friend. What if Wingate had taken her again? He had to know. Unfortunately for Miss Herley, Chesley had looked up only
in time to see Wingate and just one lady. He didn't know that another lady had also been taken upstairs.

Thus he'd followed the man surreptitiously and then concocted the scheme to get him to open the door. He should have known Wingate wouldn't let him in empty-handed. Now he'd have to hurry and get back up there and find out who the woman was. Antoine was in prison. Dash it! But if it was Miss Herley, he was sure to find help at White's or Boodle's. He might even stumble upon the rare constable. Imagine it, he, Chesley, asking help of a constable! He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Ariana began to recite the ninety-first Psalm in a low voice. Lord Wingate was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall with his head back. The candle was near him. He said, “Take a seat,” and nodded at the single shabby chair in the room. The only other piece of furniture she could see was a bed! She shuddered and took the chair.

With a sigh, he got up and approached her, and then, using a large hand-kerchief from the pocket of his waistcoat, tied her hands tightly behind her back, making her sit up until he'd finished.