Valentine

Chapter Twenty-eight

Theo was still deeply asleep when Sylvester awoke in the morning. A dark ringlet tickled his nose, and he brushed it aside, propping himself on an elbow to look down on her sleeping face. She seemed peaceful enough now, but there'd been a wildness to her in the night, a fervid, almost febrile, quality to her sensual excitement He hadn't found it cause for complaint at the time – far from it; but thinking about it now, he felt a faint flicker of unease. Was she plotting something?

Not that she'd tell him if he asked. He'd just have to try to second guess her. At the moment, innocently asleep, she presented him with no problems. Smiling, he brushed his lips over her forehead before sliding out of bed, careful not to wake her, pulling the sheet up over her bared shoulder.

Softly, he left the room in the gray light of dawn. He'd engaged to drive his mother and sister to Brook Street after breakfast; Elinor had nobly offered to accompany them on a visit to the Elgin Marbles. Later he intended to continue his goading of Neil. He could smell blood now; if only he could get the man to fall apart in one of their clubs.

Theo awoke when Sylvester was breakfasting dutifully with his mother and sister. She'd dined with them the preceding evening before going to the Vanbrughs', so felt quite justified in breakfasting in peace abovestairs. She was dressed when they left the house at nine-thirty to drive to Brook Street and watched them leave from her bedroom window, Mary swathed in a heavy pelisse, Lady Gilbraith tapping her foot impatiently on the pavement as the footman took an instant too long to open the door to the barouche.

Sylvester climbed in behind his mother and sat beside her, his expression stoic as he inclined his head to listen to what looked to the watcher above to be some considerable diatribe.

It couldn't have been a more convenient absence, Theo reflected. He'd be well out of the way when Neil Gerard came to collect her.

Critically, she examined her image in the mirror. Gerard hadn't seen her new haircut, and she had every intention of making the most of the surprise.

She wasn't planning seduction, but with cold-blooded certainty Theo knew that the more alluring she could look, the more likely she would be able to slide beneath his guard. A chip straw hat with dark-blue velvet ribbons allowed the glossy ringlets full play as they dangled over her ears and wisped on her forehead; her driving dress of blue velvet matched the ribbons; kid half boots offered a nice touch to a neat ankle. York tan gloves and fur muff completed a picture that her mother and Madame Hortense, the milliner, had gone to a deal of trouble to put together, without much help from the Countess of Stoneridge, the countess was obliged to admit. However, examining her reflection, she decided that maybe she would pay a little more attention to such details in future. They were very useful when one needed to call upon them.

She tripped lightly down the stairs, offered Foster a sunny smile, and said she would await Captain Gerard in the library. She didn't have long to wait, however, before the butler announced the gentleman in the flat tones that Theo knew denoted disapproval. Foster did not like the idea of the countess's going out with a strange man. While he wouldn't bat an eyelid at her unescorted excursions around Stoneridge and Lulworth, driving out alone with a strange gentleman through the hazardous streets of London town was another thing altogether.

"What should I tell his lordship, should he inquire your whereabouts, Lady Theo?" he asked ponderously, holding open the front door.

"Why, that I have gone for a drive with Captain Gerard," Theo said with an innocent smile. She intended to come back from this drive with her present for Sylvester, so it wouldn't matter if he knew who she was with once they were on their way. "The captain will return me safely. Won't you, sir?" The innocent smile turned arch.

"But of course, ma'am. I'm aware of how precious is my charge." He bowed, his flat brown eyes skimming over her countenance.

Theo felt a tiny prickle of unease, quickly dismissed. The toad didn't know she suspected anything. But why was he interested in cultivating her? The wife of his enemy.

And why hadn't she thought of that before? But it was too late now. She'd been so busy pursuing her own plans, she hadn't stopped to wonder why Neil Gerard should have played so neatly into her hands.

Anyway, it didn't matter. She had her pistol and Edward was following her.

Smiling, she laid her hand on Gerard's arm and allowed him to hand her into his phaeton, resisting the urge to look behind her to see if Edward's curricle was waiting at the corner.

Edward waited until the phaeton was halfway up the street, then set off in pursuit The streets were busy, and it was easy to keep a reasonable distance behind his quarry without drawing attention to himself. They proceeded along Piccadilly and into the Strand. Edward assumed Gerard would turn down New Bridge Street and cross the river at Blackfriars, but instead he headed up Ludgate Hill.

Odd, Edward thought Presumably he intended to cross the river at Southwark. It was eccentric, but perhaps he wished to show Theo some site or point of interest.

A brewer's dray lumbered into the road ahead of Edward's curricle, its four shires with braided manes planting their massive iron-shod hooves on the steeply rising road with noisy deliberation. Edward cursed. He still wasn't comfortable maneuvering his horses in a confined space one-handed. He was learning to hold the reins in his teeth while he directed with a flick of his whip, but it was tricky at best, and not something to be tried in a crowded thoroughfare when anything might spook one of his animals.

He was forced to hold back until the road widened a little and he was able to pull out and pass as they crossed Old Bailey. Only then did he see that the phaeton had disappeared. The dome of St Paul's Cathedral crowned the top of the hill up ahead, and there was no sign of Neil Gerard and his phaeton.

Edward's heart began to thump with uneasy premonition. Could they have turned down toward the river, retracing their steps to Blackfriar's Bridge? Theo had disappeared in the company of a man intent on murdering her husband. He swore as the bitter taste of his own futility washed through him anew. If he'd been able to pass the dray, he wouldn't have lost them. Why had he allowed Theo to coerce him into this? He'd known it was a mistake. He knew his limitations, but he just didn't want to accept them.

He glanced to his left into the dark shadows of a narrow court, and his heart jumped into his throat. The phaeton was drawn up before a door at the rear of the court. Instinctively, Edward drove past the entrance to the court, pulling into the side of the road a few yards up the hill.

"Hey, lad!" He beckoned an errand boy carrying a basket of loaves on his head. "Hold my horses for a couple of minutes. There's sixpence in it."

"But me loaves'll go cold, guv," the lad objected. "Master'll 'ave me 'ide if 'e gets complaints."

"Two minutes, and a shilling," Edward said brusquely, clambering down.

The lad deposited his fragrantly steaming basket on the pavement and gingerly took the reins. "Don't 'old with 'osses," he muttered. "They won't bite me, will they, guv?"

"No. Just stand still with them," Edward threw over his shoulder as he ran back to the entrance to the court Standing in the shadows, he stared into the gloomy, noisome three-sided space created by the backs of tall, narrow houses. The kennel running down the middle of the court overflowed with garbage, and the mired cobbles were thick with filthy straw.

The phaeton still stood at the door. Gerard and a massive man in a leather apron stood on the steps of the carriage, looking down into the interior.

Where the devil was Theo? Edward's heart was beating so hard, he could hear the blood roaring in his ears. The big man bent and hoisted something into his arms. Edward felt sick as he stared helplessly at the scene, recognizing the unresisting bundle the man threw over his shoulders.

What had they done to her? Why hadn't she used her pistol? He took a hasty step into the court and tripped over a bundle of sacking that cursed vilely. Looking down, he saw a pair of hollow, burning eyes glaring at him, filled with a malevolence that sent chills down his spine. A clawlike hand in fingerless mittens clutched a stone jar.

"Gi' us a shillin', guv." Edward stepped back as the fetid stench of stale gin exuded from a toothless cavern. The claw reached out and seized his ankle. Edward kicked out, fighting a moment of panic as he felt himself unbalanced, with only one free leg and one arm. If he went down to these slimy cobbles, he'd have the devil's own job to get to his feet again, and he couldn't afford to draw the attention of Neil Gerard or his henchman.

The fingers slipped from him, and with another foul curse, the shape huddled into its sacking again, lifting the stone jar to its mouth.

The man carrying Theo had disappeared through the now open door, and Gerard was following. Edward turned and ran back to his curricle. The lad greeted him with a grin of relief, took his shilling, touched his cap, heaved his basket of bread onto his head again, and went off whistling.

Edward sat for a moment fighting with himself. His blood ran hot with rage, urging him to burst into that house and wrest Theo from her captors. But he knew he was no match for one man, let alone Gerard and that massive ruffian, even if Theo were conscious and able to help. He had to get help.

He turned the curricle with a skill born of desperation and drove as fast as he would have done with two good arms along Fleet Street and the Strand. He had no idea where he would find Stoneridge, and beneath this urgent need lurked the terror of what they were doing to Theo at the moment. What if they moved her while he was away? If they got back to that house in Hall Court and found it deserted? The thought of the vast maze of London streets hammered in his fevered brain. She could vanish into that maw without a trace.

He made a tight turn onto Haymarket, shaving the varnish of a landau and hearing the indignant bellow of the coachman and the squeals of the vehicle's female occupants. His horses tossed their heads, sensing that the hand on the reins wasn't really steady enough for this pace, and he forced himself to pull back on the reins a little. And then he saw Jonathan Lacey on the other side of the street, strolling casually in the sunshine.

Edward hailed him but without immediate result. He drew rein and bellowed again in an agony of urgency. He couldn't drive across the stream of oncoming traffic Jonathan would have to come to him. But still Clarissa's swain continued to stroll on, his head presumably full of idyllic settings for his sugary portraits, Edward thought viciously. Standing up, he yelled with the full force of his lungs. The other man stopped, looking around him in puzzlement.

"Jonathan!" Edward's voice was hoarse as he waved frantically, finally catching the artist's eye.

Jonathan waved back with an amiable smile and looked for a minute as if, greeting made, he were about to continue his walk. Edward beckoned furiously, and finally Jonathan got the message. He stood on the pavement looking both ways, waiting an eternity for an ambling tilbury to pass, before he crossed.

"Good morning, Fairfax." He greeted Edward, looking somewhat puzzled at the imperative summons.

"I need you to find Stoneridge and give him a message," Edward said without preamble. "Immediately, Jonathan."

"Find Stoneridge?" The young man blinked. "But where would I find him?"

"I don't know." Edward struggled to hang on to his patience. "If he's not at Curzon Street and Foster doesn't know, try his clubs, or Mantons, or Gentleman Jackson's. Someone will know where he is."

"He was at Brook Street earlier," Jonathan said vaguely. "But he left before I did."

"Then that's not much help, is it? Now, listen, when you find him, tell him to meet me at Hall Court, off Ludgate Hill. Tell him it's of the utmost urgency and he must come prepared."

"Prepared for what?" Jonathan blinked again.

"He'll know what I mean," Edward said. "Now, don't delay. Can you remember the address?"

"Hall Court, off Ludgate Hill," Jonathan said promptly. "But this is most inconvenient, Edward. I have an engagement with a lady from whom I have every expectation of securing a commission."

Edward's mouth tightened, and the other man quailed at the look that sprang into the usually benign eyes. "If you're intending to marry Clarissa, Lacey, you'll have to learn the cardinal Belmont rule – we help each other before we help ourselves," he declared with ice-tipped clarity. "Now, find Stoneridge!"

Without waiting to see how Jonathan responded to this ferocious command, he backed his horses into an alley and turned back the way he'd come, driving his horses through the crowds as heedlessly as before.

Jonathan lifted the curly brim of his tall beaver hat and scratched his head. Then he shrugged and set off toward Mayfair. St. James's was as good a place as any to begin his search.

He drew a blank at Brooks's and Watier's, but the footman at White's acknowledged that Lord Stoneridge might be on the premises. He left Jonathan kicking his heels in the hall and sailed up the gilded staircase to the coffee room.

Stoneridge looked up from his conversation with Major Fortescue as the footman coughed at his elbow. "Well?"

"There's a young gentleman inquiring after you, my lord. Should I deny you?"

"That rather depends on the identity of the young gentleman." Sylvester raised an eyebrow.

The footman extended the silver tray with a card. "Now what the devil does young Lacey want with me?" Sylvester said, frowning. "You'd better send him up."

Jonathan appeared in the doorway a minute later. He stood looking round with every appearance of fascination, then flushed slightly as several gentlemen raised eye glasses and stared fixedly at the inquisitive intruder in this exclusive salon. He made his way hastily across the room, tripping over a small spindle-legged table in his embarrassment, righting it swiftly, only to catch his toe in the fringe of a Turkey carpet.

"It is something of an obstacle course, I agree," Stoneridge observed. "Pray sit down, Mr. Lacey, before the obstacles get the better of you."

"Your pardon, Lord Stoneridge." Jonathan mopped his brow with a large checkered handkerchief. "But I have been looking all over for you."

The first faint prickles of unease crept over Sylvester's scalp. "I'm flattered," he said calmly.

"Fairfax sent me with a message. A matter of the utmost urgency. I'm not at all sure what it could mean."

The prickles ran rampant up and down his spine. "It's to be hoped I shall. Pray continue."

"He wishes you to meet him at Hall Court, off Ludgate Hill – I believe that's correct. Oh, and he said to come prepared. He said you would know what that meant."

"Indeed, I do." Sylvester rose, no sign on his face of his inner turmoil. "Obliged to you, Lacey." He nodded briefly. "You'll pardon me, Peter."

"Of course. Anything I can do?"

But the offer was made to the earl's back as he strode from the salon.

What the hell trouble was Theo in now? He couldn't begin to imagine, and speculation was terrifyingly futile. His unease that morning had obviously been justified.

Concentrating only on immediate plans, he strode back to Curzon Street, where he thrust a pair of dueling pistols into his belt, dropped a small silver-mounted pistol into his pocket, tucked his sword stick under his arm, and slipped a wicked stiletto-bladed knife into his boot. Edward had said to come prepared.

He would make faster time on horseback, and within ten minutes he was galloping Zeus toward the Strand.

Theo swam upward through a murky pond where weeds snatched at moments of lucidity and waves kept tumbling her back into the dark world below. But slowly, her mind cleared and her eyes opened. Her head was pounding as if half a dozen hammers were at work, and gingerly she turned sideways on the pillow, feeling at the back of her head for the source of the hammers. Her fingers encountered a lump the size of a gull's

She was feeling sick and giddy, and her eyes could make no sense of her surroundings. Something heavy was round her right ankle, and experimentally she moved her leg. There was a heavy clunking sound, and whatever it was rasped painfully against her ankle bone.

The dark waters of the pond closed over her again, but this time she fought back, dragging herself upward into the light. It was a dim light, but the fog was clearing from her mind despite the continued pounding in her head.

Someone, and it hadn't been Neil Gerard, had hit her on the back of the head. They'd been driving up Ludgate Hill. She'd said that it seemed a strange route to take when they should be crossing Blackfriar's Bridge. Gerard had smiled and said he had something of interest to show her.

Then they'd turned aside into that reeking, gloomy court. And like the dumb fool she was, she still hadn't grasped what was happening. She'd sat there like a gaby a minute too long before going for her pistol, and someone had hit her from behind.

Without much hope she felt in her pocket. No pistol. Sylvester was right, Theo thought disgustedly. She was a naive, impetuous baby who needed all the protection and surveillance a caring and watchful husband could give her. If she ever got out of this situation in one piece, she'd lock herself in her room and give him the key!

Struggling up onto one elbow, she surveyed her surroundings. It was a small room lit only by a grimy skylight. She was lying on a narrow cot, on a straw palliase covered with rough striped ticking. Apart from this there was a table and chair, and a small coal fire burning in the hearth.

There was a chain around her ankle. Her right leg was shackled to the bed. Sitting up properly, Theo stared in disbelief; then she reached down, ignoring the pounding in her head, and lifted the chain. It was heavy, but it seemed long enough to allow her to get off the cot. Carefully, she stood up; her head swam, and cold perspiration broke out on her forehead as a wave of nausea washed over her. She sat down again and waited for the moment to pass.

Then, with renewed effort, she stood up and took a step toward the table in the middle of the room. The chain had sufficient play to enable her to get that far. There was a carafe of water on the table, and she drank thirstily. The cold liquid helped to clear her mind even further, and she continued her investigation of her prison.

She dragged the chain to the door. There were heavy bolts at the top and bottom on the inside – useful should she decide to lock herself in. Again without much hope, she raised the latch. It came up sweetly, and the door swung open onto a narrow passage. Her heart lifted and she stepped forward, only to discover she was at the limit of her chain, and the links bit into her ankle bone.

Theo pulled the door closed again and returned to the bed. Her foot kicked something as she sat down. At least Gerard or his assistant had provided her with a chamber pot. But what did they want with her?

There came the sound of footsteps in the passage outside, and instantly she lay down again, closing her eyes. It might be useful to pretend she was still unconscious, at least until she had a better sense of what was intended.

Gerard came into the room, closing the door behind him. He trod softly to the cot and stood looking down at the white-faced, unconscious figure. He laid a hand on her brow and was relieved to find her skin warm. Dan didn't know his own strength, and Neil had been afraid the blow had been unnecessarily hard. He needed the Countess of Stoneridge alive and well when it came to negotiating with her husband.

He allowed his gaze to roam over the still body. The soft rise and fall of her breasts, the way her skirt clung to her flat belly. The hem was rucked up, showing the curve of her ankle and calf. He bent and pushed it up a little farther, remembering the vibrant sensuality that had so struck him when he'd first laid eyes on her. His hand slid up her silken-clad leg beneath her skirt and petticoat. A madness seemed to have entered him. There was something incredibly exciting about having this immobile, unaware body at his disposal. His fingers insinuated themselves into the leg of her drawers, creeping upward over the warm skin.

And then there was a loud banging at the door. With a muttered curse he jerked his hand away and straightened.

" 'Ow is she?" Dan's huge head appeared around the door. "Awake yet?"

"Not as yet" Gerard moved casually away from the cot "Send that girl of yours to me. To the front room."

"Fancy a bit, do ya?" Dan chuckled and his red eyes leered. "Well, you do good by 'er, an' I've no objections. I'll listen out fer yon missie fer a spell."

Gerard said nothing but drew his arm sharply aside as he passed so that he wouldn't brush against the man. Dan's sneering chuckle followed him as he went to the front room that he'd once occupied, to await the scrawny maidservant he'd used there before to ease his hunger pangs.