Saving Persephone (The Haberdashers Book 4) Page 8

  They had been traveling for over an hour, with Sabre and George peeking out the window from time to time. This time when George twitched the curtain back in place she said, “Definitely east towards the coast. A port, perhaps?”

  Sabre nodded. “The thought had occurred.”

  Imogen thought the ladies were still terribly calm. If it weren’t for the feeling of quiet confidence surrounding her, she was sure she would have already panicked by now.

  “If they want us to get on a boat,” Jack said, “then what of John? I can’t see them wanting the liability of a man, and a servant at that.”

  “I will make it clear that they aren’t to harm him,” Sabre said. “And George, if it’s truly me that they want, then you need to let me be the only one to fight them.”

  “Sabre,” the blonde said in warning.

  “Don’t argue with me about this, George. We can’t risk a true attack until we are more certain of winning our freedom.”

  “It’s not like I’ll just stand there and watch them beat you bloody.”

  “If necessary, yes you will. This is the most dire circumstance we have yet faced and it needs to be handled carefully.”

  “Most dire for us, perhaps,” George said with a small smile. “But Jack fought smugglers earlier this year.”

  “Really?” Imogen asked, while the countess blushed with embarrassment.

  Jack shrugged. “Well, they had abducted my husband, there was really nothing else I could do.”

  “And,” Sabre pointed out, “she had the advantage of dozens of footmen at her back, including men who served in the wars.”

  Jack nodded, “I made sure we would outnumber them before we advanced on the beach.”

  “Correct,” Sabre said. “We have no such advantage here.”

  George sank even lower in her seat. “I could take at least four of them.”

  “Not without getting yourself killed for the trouble,” Sabre countered, “and that is not acceptable.”

  “But if they put us on a boat,” George warned, “then our chances of being found, or of escape, become practically nothing.”

  “It’s most likely to be a ransom,” Sabre argued, “probably for those damned papers Quince found, and that means my father is involved. He wouldn’t harm us, even though he might threaten to do so in order to shake Quince.”

  “Your father?” Imogen gasped. “But these men are hardened mercenaries. Why would he send them to retrieve his daughter?”

  The three young women looked at her again. Jack spoke up. “This summer Sabre shot and killed one of his guards when he tried to leave the country with the viscountess. It stands to reason he knew he needed to hire men capable of the job.”

  It was hard to believe these tales as they sat here in their ton finery. “You fought smugglers, and you shot your father’s guard?” Imogen turned to George. “What were you doing during all this?”

  George affected a saccharine smile. “Oh, I was being a perfect angel.”

  Sabre snorted. “That will be the day. But Jack, what do you think? Is George right that boarding a boat is the last thing we should do?”

  Jack sighed, her arms folded protectively over her rounded stomach. ”You have to admit that it narrows the strategic options, and lessens our opportunities to successfully escape.”

  Sabre chewed on her lip, thinking. “It is coming on dark soon. If they are focused on me, it’s possible that the rest of you could escape.”

  “I could,” George said, “but these two? Not likely.”

  “I’m not completely incapacitated, you know,” Jack said waspishly.

  George shrugged. “You’re taller than most men and waddling like a duck right now, hardly a recipe for stealth. And don’t take this poorly, Miss Grant, but you don’t strike me as a woman of action.”

  “That depends upon your definition of action,” Imogen said archly. The other women dissolved into laughter.

  “I can see why Robert likes you,” George teased.

  “Please,” Sabre said, holding up a hand. “Don’t make me think of my brother that way.”

  “Your own husband assumed you were a Cyprian wandering Robert's house when he met you,” George said. “It’s fair to say that everyone thinks of him that way.”

  Sabre redirected the conversation by asking Imogen, “Can you swim?”

  “Yes, but it’s bound to be terribly cold.”

  “We may not have much time left and we need to decide what we are willing to do.”

  George tucked her legs under her on the bench and leaned forward to look at the duchess. “I’m not comfortable leaving you on your own.”

  “And I think we can agree that Jack doesn’t need to be on this journey at all,” Sabre countered.

  “Sabre,” Jack said, shifting uncomfortably yet again on the bench, “I have to agree with George. We couldn’t possibly leave you on your own.”

  “Pish posh. Then you can come rescue me.”

  Imogen could sense that the duchess was feeling more fear than she was outwardly showing and said, “I tend to doubt that Robert would appreciate it if I lost his little sister.”

  “He knows me well enough to know that I would be fine,” she countered immediately. Brave and determined to protect the rest of their party? Imogen was developing an appreciation for the diminutive terror.

  Jack spoke again. “Many things won’t be clear until we see where they are taking us. We can all agree that opportunities to escape should be capitalized upon.”

  Sabre nodded. “And our priorities should be Jack, then Imogen, John, and George. Lastly me, since they will be most determined to hold onto me. Agreed, Haberdashers?”

  Jack frowned but nodded. George had gone back to scowling, but nodded as well.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The hope that Sabre was at the household of Gideon Wolfe, Earl of Harrington was short-lived. Neither the countess nor earl was in presently, much less any guests.

  “Where are they?” Robert demanded.

  Dibbs, the Harrington’s London butler, reacted enough to raise an eyebrow at Robert’s tone.

  “It’s important,” the duke cut in smoothly. “It concerns my wife’s safety and therefore perhaps the countess’s.”

  “Of course, your grace,” Dibbs responded deferentially. “Lady Jacqueline did depart in the ducal coach no more than an hour ago. At present the earl should be at his investment office.”

  “Do you have any idea where the girls were going?” Robert asked.

  “I’m afraid I do not, sir,” the butler admitted.

  The duke turned to Robert. “Shall we collect Giddy?”

  Robert shook his head and spoke to the butler. “Send someone to tell the earl that we need to speak with him at my townhome. Urgently.” Turning back to the duke, he said, “We need to find out where they were going, and that means we will need my men.”

  “Thank God for your men, I suppose,” the duke said drily.

  * * *

  Gideon looked up as one of his footmen entered the office and bowed.

  “Yes, Bridgins?” the earl asked tersely. He and his investment team had been deep into the papers necessary for a land acquisition in Spain.

  “Begging your pardon, my lord, but Mr. Bittlesworth said he needs you to attend him most urgently at his townhouse.”

  Gideon stood. “Robert Bittlesworth?”

  “Yes, my lord, and he has the duke with him. His grace said it concerned the safety of his wife and thus also the countess.”

  “Bloody hell.” Gideon shrugged into his jacket. “We will have to complete this later, gentlemen.”

  Both John Howards and Casimir Rokiczana stood. Casimir said, “If Sabre and Jack are involved, it’s quite likely my wife is, too.”

  “Come along, then.” What he didn’t say was that if those two women had dragged his pregnant wife into trouble, there would be hell to pay.

  * * *

  Quince followed Robert into the townhouse. The you
nger man was as intense as the duke had ever seen him, something of a reassurance if Sabre was truly in danger. Provided, of course, that they were able to extract the duchess from said danger. Otherwise Quince wasn’t quite sure what he would do to her wayward brother, but decided it would be unpleasant. Sabre had more capacity to take care of herself than a typical person, but Quince knew from personal experience that Robert’s enemies were both clever and deadly. However, he couldn’t think too much upon the danger to his wife or he wouldn’t be able to focus on what they needed to do now.

  “Bobbins!” Robert called out once they had gained the front hall. “Expect the earl presently. His grace and I will be in the study.”

  Robert led him down the hallway and into the study, closing and locking the door, then rustled about in his desk, unlocking drawers and spreading papers out atop it. Quince picked up one of the notes to glance at and then set it back down.

  “What are we doing?” the duke asked.

  “Trying to find a pattern I haven’t seen before.”

  “There are quite a few notes here.”

  “Yes,” Robert said distractedly, rearranging the notes in some order that seemed to make sense to him.

  “How long have you known Sabre was in danger?”

  That managed to divert Robert’s attention. “Since ten minutes before I accosted you in your library, I assure you.”

  Knowing that Bittlesworth could lie as smoothly as any politician, Quince was far from assured, but his inquiry was interrupted by the arrival of Gideon and Casimir. Robert unlocked the door to allow them to be ushered in, and then locked it again.

  “Why all the secrecy?” Gideon asked.

  “Until I’m sure what we’re dealing with, I want to control the details,” Robert responded.

  “What are we dealing with?” Casimir asked, looking at the notes spread over the desktop.

  “Threats,” Robert answered succinctly.

  Casimir picked up one of the notes to study while Gideon asked, “What makes you think the girls are in danger?”

  “The note I received this morning,” Robert said, handing over the small missive. “Who else would they be referring to as 'little bird' than my sister?”

  “Most likely anyone,” Gideon said grumpily. “Do we have any reason to believe they are truly at risk?”

  Casimir muttered something in Polish and held the paper out to Robert. “Do you know who wrote this?”

  “No, I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

  “I think I do,” the Polishman said quietly. “And if so, he’s not a good man.”

  “Name?”

  “I knew him as LeBeau, but I tend to doubt that is his true name.”

  “How did you know him?”

  The younger man had the grace to look abashed. “I travel in many circles. There was a time when LeBeau believed I could help him.”

  “With what?”

  “Introductions. He wished to ingratiate himself to the wealthy on the continent.”

  Robert’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he come to you for that?”

  “He thought us to have more than a bit in common, as he had met my father before.”

  Robert nodded as though that made sense, but Quince was curious. “What was it your father did?”

  “Robbed carriages, your grace.”

  Quince quirked his brow. “Well, I suppose that explains why you are so good at playing the investment field.”

  Gideon spoke up. “But that means this LeBeau is a carriage robber as well?”

  “I suspect he has done many things,” Casimir said. “But yes, from what I know he has worked some of the richer routes of France and Prussia. Before that he was a soldier.”

  “And you’re saying that you did not, in fact, make those introductions?” Quince asked.

  Casimir smiled. “It’s one thing for me to take advantage of my friends, your grace, quite another for someone else to do so.”

  A knock at the door interrupted them. ”What is it, Bobbins?” Robert asked impatiently.

  “Mr. Cornock, sir.”

  “Not now, Bobbins.”

  “Says it’s important, sir.”

  Quince thought that if Mr. Cornock could see the expression on Robert’s face that the man would most likely take himself elsewhere.

  “Pardon me, gentlemen,” Robert said, unlocking the door. “I will return presently.”

  * * *

  Robert had little patience for news about Miss Grant at the moment, but it would undoubtedly strike Mr. Cornock as strange that Robert had been avid for information for days now, if he suddenly went cold on it. And if there was one thing that Robert tried to avoid with his agents, it was remarkable behavior. As such, he was prepared to be as attentive and engaged as he had been at their previous meetings, even if his mind was elsewhere. Entering the vestibule off the kitchen, however, he was surprised at the state he found Cornock in. The man was sweaty, flushed, and agitated.

  “There was an ambush, sir,” he reported without preamble.

  “What?” Where in London could Miss Grant have been ambushed?

  “She boarded a carriage, sir, that left London to the northwest and I followed at some distance.”

  Robert felt a chill. “What did the carriage look like? The horses?”

  “Black carriage, not new but of quality. The horses were grey. High steppers, sir.”

  Sabre. Robert would bet his life on it. Why had the Haberdashers been taking Imogen out of London? Most likely to Belle Fleur? “Ambush, you say?”

  “Yes, sir. I let the carriage gain a half-mile on me, so as not to look too conspicuous. Riders came on fast, but passed me. Not too long after I heard gunshots. It was the woods near the Mimshall and I crept as close as I dared. There were nine men on horseback. After a time they all started off again to the north, the carriage surrounded. I rode back to report to you as quick as I could, sir.”

  “Thank you, that will be all for now.”

  Cornock bowed out of the room, but Robert stayed rooted to the spot for a moment. He had to consider, more than consider, that the reason his sister was in danger was that Imogen Grant was in league with this LeBeau. Had he referred to Sabre as ‘little bird’ in Miss Grant’s presence? It was certainly possible. He had become comfortable with her. Too comfortable. Now, in retrospect, he saw that the timelines matched up rather a bit too neatly. He had met Miss Grant the same day he had heard about the death of his seventh Top Hat. By the time they had danced, the eighth had been reported. Who, however, knew him well enough to choose the perfect woman to entrap him? Even he wouldn’t have identified her as his honeytrap. Perhaps that showed precisely how clever his enemies were. Or how masterful a seductress Miss Grant was.

  Now there was nothing for it but to save the Haberdashers before something dire happened. And woe be unto Miss Grant for whatever role she was playing in this drama.

  Chapter Nineteen

  For all the travel that Imogen had done in her life, she realized now that she had never felt herself to be in much personal danger. Only now, trapped in a carriage headed to an unknown destination, feeling oddly responsible for the younger women with her who were, honestly, far less alarmed than she was, did she finally understand why her mother fretted. Imogen would pay a pretty penny for retainers that could protect them. If she thought it would help, she would offer to bribe the brigands, but it was clear that they already knew they were kidnapping a duchess. There was likely little that would inspire them to release the girls. Especially when they could gain the same funds by demanding a ransom instead.

  After arguing strategies for gaining their freedom, the Haberdashers had finally fallen into an uneasy silence. George monitored the riders outside by peeking out the curtains periodically. Jack and Sabre both seemed lost in their own thoughts. Imogen still had the large, awkward gun that the duchess had pushed on her. It was in her lap, but she didn’t know what on earth she would do with it if the situation presented itself. Throw it and run
was the most likely answer. Would she have the wherewithal to actually point a gun and shoot it at a person? Just the idea of causing such pain made her cringe. Not that she had any confidence in her aim. She had never fired a gun, nor been anywhere near one being fired. Well, until today.

  She was beginning to regret ever having met Robert Bittlesworth.

  * * *

  Robert let himself back into the study. “I have reason to believe that they were bound for Belle Fleur and waylaid.”

  “Bloody hell, Robert,” Gideon thundered.

  “Are you having my wife followed?” the duke asked.

  Ignoring the earl’s irritation, Robert turned to the duke instead. “No, the American, Miss Grant.”

  Casimir Rokiczana smiled and leaned against the wall. “You’re having your lover followed? How romantic.”

  Robert glowered at the younger man. “I have reason to believe she may be an agent. Wonder, in fact, if she is working in concert with this LeBeau.”

  “Why are we still here?” Gideon asked, bristling with energy and anger.

  “I have sent for Charlie to bring us some of his best horses,” Robert answered. “We will leave presently.”

  “How many men will we take with us?” Casimir asked.

  “I think it would be for the best if we keep this… confidential for now.”

  “Confidential?” the duke asked. ”We’re talking about the safety of our wives and your sister.”

  “And the security of England,” Robert countered. ”It is hard to know who to trust.”

  “Obviously you shouldn’t be on that list,” Gideon said darkly.

  “Gentlemen,” Casimir said, pushing away from the wall. “A fight will not bring us any closer to securing our wives.”

  “Precisely,” the duke agreed.

  The earl continued to glower, but nodded.

  Robert secured his papers back in his drawer and led the men outside to await his brother’s arrival.

  * * *

  Jack bit her bottom lip and looked around the carriage at her friends. If neither she nor Sabre could think of a pleasant resolution to this situation, then there most likely wasn’t one. Any attempt at resistance seemed the most likely way to get at least one of them injured or killed. It was infuriating. It was lowering. She wasn’t one to hurt others without provocation, but quite honestly she hoped the whole lot of these brigands went to gaol or worse.