Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
A Rescue at Any Cost
Finch’s female associate stepped into the corridor first, her approach unhurried, her smile easy as she offered a bottle and a wrapped parcel to the guard.
“About bloody time,” the guard muttered, one hand already reaching for the parcel. “My stomach’s been growling for the better part of an hour.”
She laughed softly, indulging him. As she did, she shifted her position, turning him away from the door he was guarding.
The moment his attention wavered, we moved.
Finch and the others were on him at once. A hand clamped over his mouth as he was driven back against the wall, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Another blow followed—swift, precise. His resistance collapsed at once. He was lowered to the floor, senseless and unmoving.
We tried the door, but it was locked. And there was no key on the guard.
I swore under my breath. We couldn’t afford the time to hunt another way in.
“Watch the main stairs,” I ordered, gesturing in that direction. “If anyone comes up, cry out a warning.”
One of Finch’s men moved at once and positioned himself by the side of the staircase.
The door was a solid one, built to keep people out rather than merely discourage them.
Finch struck first, driving his weight into it hard enough to rattle the frame.
But the door held. I rushed it next. The impact shuddered through my bones; the lock did not give.
Finch tried again. The wood groaned, and the iron protested, but the door did not surrender.
“Once more,” Finch muttered. “Together.” We rammed the portal once more with everything we had. This time, the lock cracked free, and the door burst inward.
The room lay in shadows, silence, and despair.
Shuttered windows kept it dim, while the air was thick with heat and smelled of the cloying sweetness of drugged wine.
Women lined the walls—so many of them—some slumped forward, others stared vacantly ahead.
A few stirred at the noise we’d made, confusion flickering sluggishly across dulled faces.
Rosalynd was not among them.
But Lady Honora was. She sat near the far wall, her posture unnaturally straight, her eyes unfocused.
“Get them out,” Finch said to his men. “Quickly.”
His men moved at once, practiced and efficient. Finch’s female associate was already among the captives, murmuring reassurance, steadying uncooperative limbs, urging them to their feet. They swayed, disoriented, but they could walk. That was enough.
“Nicky,” I said. “Take Lady Honora.”
He hesitated. “But—”
“Now.”
“Yes. Of course.”
He took her hand gently. “Come, my lady.”
One by one, the women were guided out of the room that had held them captive to the service stairs, where they disappeared out of sight.
When the room was empty, I searched again for Rosalynd. Corners. Shadows. Behind the curtains. Nothing.
“She isn’t here,” I said.
Finch’s jaw tightened. “No.”
From below came a surge of sound as laughter, music, and anticipation rose to a new pitch. With it came the sickening certainty of what was about to happen.
“They’re coming for them,” Finch said grimly. “They will not find what they expect. When they don’t—”
“—all hell will break loose.” The realization landed like a blow. “Go with your men. Get the women to the barges.”
“The hell I will. We need to find Lady Rosalynd.”
“I can do that. I will do that.”
“Not by yourself you won’t.”
Before I could answer, footsteps sounded in the corridor. More than one set. We pointed our weapons at the open door and waited for what was sure to come.
“What the bloody hell?” A masculine voice. He must have caught sight of the unconscious guard.
A man lurched into the doorway, eyes bloodshot, his movements loose. Obviously drunk. Several women stood behind him. None of them were masked. None wore fancy dress.
Understanding struck at once. The women were not guests. They had been hired to handle the young women. To feed them, dress them, drug them. And tonight, they would put them up for bidding.
I crossed the room in three strides and pressed the muzzle of my gun beneath the man’s chin.
“Where is she?”
He blinked, confused, then scoffed weakly. “They’re gone, man. Can’t you see?”
I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Where is the lady in the red cape? What have you done with her?”
His gaze slid past me toward the emptied room, genuine confusion overtaking his bravado. “Haven’t the foggiest what you’re on about,” he said. “I haven’t seen a woman in a red cape.”
I pressed the muzzle harder beneath his chin, my finger tightening on the trigger. “Your life will be forfeit if you don’t tell me,” I said. “Now.”
His eyes bulged as the sour stench of fear rose from him.
A hand closed on my arm. Finch’s. His voice was calm, steady. “He doesn’t know. Look at him.”
I forced myself to see the panic on the man’s face. He was telling the truth.
A voice spoke from behind him. One of the women. “She was taken away.”
She stood near the door, her face pale but intent. “The lady in the red cape,” she said. “She was taken away.”
“Where to?” I demanded.
The woman did not answer at once. She glanced at the two women beside her, then back toward me.
For a brief moment of time, she measured me before she spoke again.
“I will tell you what I know, Your Grace, in exchange for you letting us go.” She indicated the other women with a slight tilt of her head.
I turned fully toward her, anger sharpening my focus. “You know me?”
“I knew your father,” she replied. Her gaze searched my face with unsettling familiarity. “The resemblance is remarkable.”
With barely controlled fury, I demanded, “Where is she?”
“Promise first,” she said evenly. “There will be no retribution against us. None. Are we agreed?”
My thoughts raced. These women were procurers. Gaolers. They had kept the girls imprisoned and drugged while they waited to be sold. Every instinct I possessed recoiled at the notion of letting them walk free.
But there was no choice. If damnation was the price of Rosalynd’s safety, I would pay it without hesitation.
I lowered the gun. “Only if I find her unharmed. And you do nothing like this ever again.”
The woman gazed at the other two females. After a silent agreement passed between them, she inclined her head. “We will take that bargain.”
“Tell me,” I said. “Now!”
“A man blocked her way when she tried to leave the lavatory. And then his henchman showed up with the news his carriage was waiting at the stables. All three of them then took the back stairs. She did not go willingly.”
“What man?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know his name. But I’ve seen him before.”
That was enough. I caught her by the arm. “You’re coming with us.” I nodded to Finch. “All of you.” He secured the other two women as well.
The man who had been under my gun found his voice again. “And what am I meant to tell the men downstairs?” he demanded, desperation edging his tone. “They’re waiting for the entertainment. What am I supposed to do?”
“If I were you,” I said evenly, “I would make myself as scarce as possible.”
His eyes widened.
“They might hang you otherwise.”
He wasted no time acting on my advice and disappeared down the corridor.
We took a different set of back stairs than the ones we’d climbed before—a narrower servants’ stair on the opposite side of the house meant for discreet comings and goings.
We descended at speed, our boots muffled by age and grime, and slipped out through a side door that opened onto a path that led to the stables.
As we approached, a stable hand looked up from where he was checking a harness, startled by our sudden appearance.
I crossed the distance in two strides. “A gentleman left not long ago,” I said. “Had a carriage waiting. Was there a lady with him?”
The man’s eyes widened, but he did not hesitate. “No, sir. No lady.”
“You’re certain,” I said. “She wore a red cape.”
He shook his head, earnest and frightened now. “I’d have noticed, sir. Only the gentleman. He arrived alone and left at once.”
The denial landed like a blow. If she had not left by carriage, she was still on the grounds. And running out of time.
A voice rose from deeper within. “I saw her.”
We turned as one. Another stable hand stood near the far stall, half in shadow, his pitchfork forgotten in his grip.
“I saw her,” he said. “A lady in a red cape. She didn’t go with the gentleman.”
I stepped toward him. “Go on.”
“One of his men took her,” he said. “Dragged her off. Toward the river.” He hesitated, then added, “She was screaming bloody murder, she was.”
The words froze my blood. I had seen what they did to women there. What the water was meant to erase. I grabbed his shirt. “And you didn’t stop them?”
“Not the first time a man has dragged off a mort. That’s what they do. It’s a game to them.”
“This was no bloody game.” I shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
His eyes bulged from his head. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Steele,” Finch said, a reminder of what was important. Finding Rosalynd.
“Which way did they go?” I demanded of the stable hand.
He lifted a trembling arm and pointed. “Along the path behind the sheds.”
“Let us go, Your Grace,” the woman who had first spoken said. “You don’t need us anymore.”
I held her gaze. “We haven’t found the lady in the red cape, have we?” I hesitated a moment. “But we don’t need all of you.” Turning to Finch, I said, “Let the other two go.”
Finch nodded once and set them free. “Go on.”
“Thank ’ee kindly, sir,” one of the women said. They wasted no time disappearing into the night.
I pushed the woman I held toward Finch. “Here. Take her.” I wanted my hands free for whatever we would find.