The Wrong Woman (13 page)

“I have not seen her recently, aunt. But I believe she will still be in the room where we last left her.”

“Go and seek her out, please. We really must be getting home.”

“Of course, aunt.” Cat moved along the wall until she reached the front hallway. She opened two doors before she found the room where they had left Izzy. Someone was in the chair, but it was not her sister, unless Izzy had grown long legs and clad them in immaculate black knee breeches.

“Lord Revere?” Cat tentatively approached the chair. The man's face emerged from behind one of the wings.

“Miss Catherine? Is everything all right?”

She looked at him in puzzlement. “I might ask you the same question, sir. I thought to find Izzy here. Have you seen my sister?”

In the dim light, Cat thought she saw Lord Revere's face contract for a moment in pain. He sighed.

“Isobel... Miss Masters was here, but I have not seen her in quite awhile.”

“How long exactly?” Cat was alarmed. Where was Izzy?

“You mean that she has not been with you?” He rose from the chair.

“Not since we placed her in here to recover.” Cat shook her head.

“That has been hours ago. Did she never return to the ballroom?” Lord Revere stepped toward her.

“No, and Mr. Shepherd has not seen her either. Where do you think she might be?”

“I do not know. But this worries me.”

“Lord Revere, I beg of you not to think me impertinent, but...” Cat stalled, unable to think of a good way to ask what she wanted to ask. Lord Revere seemed to know what she wanted to ask.

“Miss Catherine, I am not proud to say it, but your sister left here in some anger at me. I do not know where she went.”

Cat studied the look on Lord Revere's face. He seemed genuinely distressed. And even in the dim light she thought she recognized traces of tears on his face.
Has he been crying? What on earth happened between the two of them to make the man cry?
Cat would definitely have to discuss this with Izzy. As soon as they found her.

“Lord Revere, would you do me the favor of asking the footmen if they have seen my sister? Perhaps she left the house and returned home without telling us.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He seemed glad of having something to do. “I will meet you at the front door. Shall I also request your carriage?”

“Please. Aunt Hetty is ready to return home.”

“As am I,” Cat heard him mutter. She followed Lord Revere out of the room and headed toward the ballroom to collect her aunt.

“Aunt, we cannot find Izzy. It appears that she may have already gone home. Lord Revere is requesting our carriage and asking the footmen if they've seen her.”

Jack had stayed with Aunt Hetty and heard the former pronouncement. “Miss Masters, Miss Catherine, might I be of any assistance?”

“You might, young man,” Aunt Hetty said as she took his arm. He escorted her toward the front hall where Cat was hopeful they would find out more about Izzy.

Lord Revere met them at the front door. “The carriage is being brought 'round.”

“And Izzy?” Cat asked.

“The footman says she left about two hours ago.”

“Two hours? I cannot believe it.”

“He says she stopped only for her coat and then struck out on foot.”

“What could have possessed her?” Cat exclaimed.

“A girl needs a walk now and again,” Aunt Hetty added to the conversation. Cat turned to her in disbelief.

“But a walk in the middle of the night and in the cold?”

Aunt Hetty shrugged. “A walk at any time and in any weather might clear the mind.” She looked significantly at Lord Revere. He did not notice, though, as he had stepped back toward the footman to ask another question. When he returned to the group, he had more information.

“She struck out in that direction,” Lord Revere pointed to the right.

“That's the direction to go home!” Cat said.

“There now. I said the girl just needed a walk. She is probably waiting for us all snug in the house.”

Cat felt some relief at this. It was a sensible solution and her aunt seemed so sure of it. Izzy was waiting at home, of course. She probably had her feet propped on a chair and was drinking a nice cup of warm tea.

“Ladies, shall we escort you home?” Lord Revere asked as the carriage pulled up to the house.

“Thank you, that will not be necessary, sir,” Aunt Hetty answered. “I am sure my niece is waiting for us.”

“I do hope so, Miss Masters. I will call tomorrow, if I might, to check on everything?” Cat was glad to hear this. She would have time to patch up whatever had gone wrong between Lord Revere and Izzy.

Aunt Hetty inclined her head and gave him a smile. “We will see you tomorrow, then, sir.”

“Thank you for your help!” Cat yelled out as he shut the door and the carriage pulled away.

* * * * *

Miles was not as certain as Aunt Hetty that Isobel was waiting for them at home. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her.

As they stood in the hall removing their coats, Watson approached Miles quietly and carefully, as if he had something to relate but was unsure how to approach his master.

“Sir,” he said and cleared his throat.

“Yes?”

“A note arrived while you were out.” The butler held out his hand with a smudged and folded sheet of paper.

“A note? At this hour?”

“Yes, sir. From a man who did not look very respectable. He declared to me that it was urgent and that you read it as soon as you arrived.”

Fear rushed through him. Miles ripped open the paper and read the short lines. A moment was all he needed to burn them on his mind forever.

Lord Revere,

I have taken Miss Masters.

If you expect her back
unharmed
, come to The Queen's Ring by 4 o'clock this morning.

Thomas Davenport

“Where is The Queen's Ring? And who is Thomas Davenport?” Miles asked frantically, crumbling the paper in his hand and reaching again for his coat.

“What is it?” Jack asked, his panic increasing along with his brother's.

“Someone has kidnapped Isobel.” Miles felt bile rise in his throat. The word
unharmed
echoed through his head.

“What?” Jack's eyes were wide. “Why?” The brothers ran out the door to the carriage which had not yet been driven away.

“Miles, we have to go tell Miss Catherine and Miss Masters what has happened.”

“No, we must go to find her.” Miles was in a blind panic. He could think of nothing except getting to Isobel. Some mad man had kidnapped her and only Miles could save her.

“Miles.” Jack grabbed his brother and held him still. “What does the note say?”

Miles concentrated on Jack's face and answered. “Someone has kidnapped Isobel and I must go to The Queen's Ring by three in the morning.” He started off again before Jack's voice broke in.

“Miles, it is only a little after one o'clock now. We have time. Let me write a note to Miss Catherine, please.”

Miles knew his brother spoke sense, but he did not want to hear it. Isobel was in trouble now. She needed help now. He took a deep breath.

“Fine, but hurry.”

Chapter 16

“You imbecile!” Thomas Davenport smacked the disheveled man hard across the face. “This is the wrong woman!” He spat out the words as if they would make sense to the stupid man in front of him.

“I'm s-s-sorry, sir.” It was all the explanation Benson seemed inclined to offer. Of course he would have nothing to say to defend himself. Thomas wheeled around on his heel, turning his back on the man now cowering away from him.

“Never send an idiot to do your work, Davenport,” he mumbled to himself. Then he began to speak loudly so that the imbecile could hear him. “I knew I should have done this myself. All I asked was that you quietly kidnap the Masters girl and bring her to me. That was all I needed you to do. But could you even get that right? No. Instead you brought me the fat, frumpy one that no one cares about.”

Thomas took an angry step away from Benson and toward the captive. This was
Isobel
Masters, the older sister of the girl he'd really wanted, the pretty younger one, who was engaged, or expected to be engaged, to Miles Shepherd, Baron of Revere.

Thomas had plotted and planned how to get revenge on the man who had stripped him of his inheritance and dignity in front of all those men in the club. They had all laughed at him and then acted as if he did not even merit the laughter they'd given. Revere had humiliated him. And now he wanted to make the man suffer.

For two weeks, Thomas had been watching and waiting for the right opportunity. He'd been studying Revere at every moment to see where he was most vulnerable. And finally he'd found it. That night at Mrs. Starr’s. Revere hadn't even known he was there, couldn’t be bothered to remember a man he’d ruined. It was one more proof that he needed to be punished.

Thomas thought he'd hit on the perfect scheme. So perfect because it was so devious. Thomas knew enough about Lord Revere to have noticed that he would not particularly care if anything happened to himself. But to someone he knew and maybe even someone he loved – if the man was capable of love at all, that was –
there
was his Achilles' heel.

But the idiot Benson had brought the wrong woman! Anger surged through Thomas and he snarled. “What am I to do about this?”

He studied his prisoner. Her hands and feet were lashed to a chair and her mouth was stopped with his handkerchief. She'd started to talk back to him and Thomas couldn't stand it. As he looked at her now, he thought he saw a look of contempt. How dare she! He wanted to smack her but knew that wouldn't do. If he wanted Revere, he must treat his captive kindly.

“Hello, Miss Masters,” he spoke in a sickly sweet voice. She flinched as he stepped closer to her.

Thomas held his hands up in a gesture of peace.

“I have no plans to harm you, as long as you cooperate with me,” he pronounced the words slowly, making sure she’d understand. “However, I will keep you restrained, just to be sure. It is no use fighting against your bonds, anyway.” Even in the dim lighting, Thomas could see the anger in her eyes. She wanted to fight. That was good. In different circumstances he might almost have liked this Isobel Masters.

“You may have heard my exchange just now with my idiot there.” He gestured toward the man still cowering in the corner. “And from that exchange you might have guessed that he was supposed to have kidnapped your sister and not yourself.” Her eyes were burning into him. It created a delightful sensation. Already Thomas could feel the rush of power over someone else. How much better it would be once he had his true quarry in his grasp.

“So, I am sorry for the inconvenience to your person, but you will have to remain with us until Revere decides to give himself up to me. I hope that you will prove enough of an incentive for him. I had planned to have his betrothed, but maybe her sister will do just as well as she.” He leaned close to his captive and felt her strain to move away from him. He smiled at her and whispered, “Well, let us hope that he will ride to your rescue. Otherwise...” He raised his eyebrows and let her imagination do the rest. He did not want to hurt her. But he would not rule it out.

“Sir?” Benson spoke. Thomas turned back and stared at him hard through the dim light.

“What?” He growled.

“My payment, sir? You promised a pound for bringing her here.”

“I did, did I?” Thomas's lip curled in a sarcastic smile. “Actually, I believe the contract was for the other sister. So, you failed.”

“But still, sir...” The man protested.

“What?” Thomas sighed.

“I did bring you this lady here... And you paid the cab driver his full share.”

“He did not ask questions. And he did his job correctly.”

“So,” the man stood up straight to make his next request. “I think I deserve my payment.”

“Very well,” Thomas spoke in resigned tones. He could have laughed at the startled look on the man's face. Benson had clearly not been expecting him to give in so easily.

Thomas smiled to himself as he reached into his coat pocket. Before the idiot knew what was happening, Thomas shot him in the head.

* * * * *

Even through the wad of cloth stopping her mouth, Isobel tried to scream. The panic welling up inside of her needed to escape from somewhere. Her fingers scrabbled at the arms of the chair and she pulled hard against her bonds.

He is going to kill me. I will die here in whatever this horrible place is. This man is going to kill me.

The cloth in her mouth was in danger of choking her as she tried to gasp for breath and she’d rubbed her wrists raw with struggling against the ropes. But her struggles weren’t getting anywhere. She had to think of something else. And calm down. She attempted to breathe through her nose as she considered what she should do.

For the past hours, Isobel had been hoping that this was all a nightmare. But the unmoving lump of the body in the corner had shattered that hope. She tried to damp down the panic that wanted to rise.

Now the mad man stood frozen, as if waiting for someone to burst into the room and catch him. Surely someone had heard that shot, Isobel thought. But then, judging by the room she was in, she wasn't sure that anyone was around. And if they were, they might not even care.

Where were they? For hours now she'd been in this room tied to this chair. It was dark, with only one candle burning by where they'd come in. As her eyes had adjusted, she'd been able to make out that the room was fairly large, almost the length of two normal rooms. It was almost empty, with only some odd bric-a-brac here and there. Perhaps a disused inn or public house.

She had not heard any movement close enough to be in the same building. And she had listened very carefully, hoping that someone would suspect something and rescue her. But there had been nothing but some shouting – how long ago now she did not know – that sounded very far away. Isobel was not surprised that there was no reaction to the shot that had just rent the night air.