Chapter 21
It took nearly an inhuman effort for Adrian to drag himself back to Portman Square.
He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t even been home since meeting his associates at The Bearded Vulture.
Instead, he’d ridden back with Murdoch, who’d dropped him off on Duke Street where Samantha had been abducted.
He’d already walked the length of it once, but it couldn’t hurt to expand his search.
The alternative had been to go home and wait for information to turn up. Unthinkable. To remain inactive while his wife surely prayed he’d find her. The least he could do was try, however futile his efforts.
As expected, there had been nothing new for him to discover, and he was beginning to feel like a shadow of the man he’d been the night before, when he and Samantha danced in the Moorland ballroom.
That was roughly seventeen hours ago. He still wore his evening black, now thoroughly rumpled and dirty from trekking about.
His feet ached too. The shoes he’d elected to wear to the ball weren’t meant to be worn this long, but he’d be damned if he’d complain. Whatever discomfort he had to suffer was surely nothing compared with Samantha’s. Or Murry’s.
Adrian prayed his trusty valet was all right too and that he would not do something foolish. He’d nearly died the last time he tried to protect Samantha. It hadn’t helped. All he’d managed to do was endanger himself, though Adrian realized he’d likely have acted in the same way.
Heavy-hearted, he pushed one foot in front of the other, forcing himself to climb the steps leading up to Number 5 Portman Square. Behind him, the City bustled with energy. He’d even spotted a few acquaintances on his way home, but they had wisely chosen to steer clear of his path.
He banged on the door with his fist and it was soon opened by Elks. The butler, seeing Adrian, quickly pulled the door wider and even offered his hand in assistance. A confirmation that Adrian not only felt wretched but also looked it.
The door closed and he sagged against it.
Elks watched with concern, his eyebrows knitted in a rare show of emotion. “Jennings told us what happened, sir. Whatever you need, we’re here for you and Mrs. Croft.”
Adrian swallowed and fought the raw response that would bring him to tears. He couldn’t afford to unravel, but the pure exhaustion and terror that gripped him was making it difficult not to.
He cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and started removing his gloves. A small distraction to help him through this moment.
His hat was…
He glanced about as though expecting to spot it when he’d probably left it at Moorland House. Forgotten in his moment of panic and need to act swiftly.
Elks took the gloves and Adrian started toward the parlor, intent on having a glass of brandy when Elks’s voice stopped him. “I regret to inform you that Harlowe is waiting to see you.”
“What?” Adrian spun toward his butler, an uncontrollable surge of anger going straight to the top of his skull. “How could you think to admit him? You know what has happened, what I am now forced to deal with, and you chose to let that man into my home? What the devil possessed you?”
The butler didn’t so much as flinch in response to Adrian’s tone, which was so harsh it threatened to strip the paint from the walls. “While I am aware that there is some tension between you, he has come to offer his help. Given the situation, I thought it best to accept.”
Adrian gnashed his teeth. He pointed in the parlor’s direction. “He wants her dead, Elks.”
The butler blinked. “My apologies, sir. I wasn’t aware.”
Adrian closed his eyes briefly. In retrospect, it might have been wise to share that information. He’d just never expected to find himself in a situation where Harlowe would be admitted without him or Samantha having a say.
“Should I tell him to leave?”
Adrian sighed. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m guessing you haven’t eaten lately. If you like, I can have some food sent up.”
“Please do.” Adrian made his way to the parlor, paused for a couple of breaths, and entered the room.
Harlowe sat by the fire, a drink in one hand, a book in the other. Hearing Adrian’s footfalls, he sent a look toward the door and promptly snapped his book shut. “Forgive the intrusion, but I received a missive from Chief Magistrate Hastings earlier, informing me of your wife’s disappearance.”
A snort of displeasure was all Adrian could muster. “He had no business sharing those details with you.”
“Considering I am the closest thing Samantha has to a parent,” Harlowe replied, his voice gruff, “he probably felt I deserved to know.”
“And I am of the opinion that you do not,” Adrian clipped, already dismissing the man as he strode to the sideboard.
He grabbed a tumbler, pulled the stopper from a carafe, and poured a measure of brandy.
“As far as I know, you played a part in her abduction. That is how much I think you care about her.”
“I can accept that even though you’re entirely wrong.”
Adrian snorted his disdain, picked up his glass and turned to face his unwelcome guest. “You sent that other agent of yours to kill her.”
“I asked Hazel to find her and bring her home because I was worried.”
Every muscle in Adrian’s body drew taut. He gritted his teeth. “Clearview isn’t her home. It stopped being so when you chose that ridiculous mission of yours over her well-being.”
“Had I not done so, you probably wouldn’t have married.”
True. Maybe. Too angry to respond in the moment, Adrian took a sip of his brandy, then said, “You can ease your conscience however you wish, but let’s not pretend that you wouldn’t have killed her had Hazel succeeded in bringing her back to you.
Her betrayal put you at risk. It put your project and even the nation’s safety at risk. ”
“We’ve since come to an agreement, she and I. Upon my honor, I’ve no intention to harm her.”
But he had, and Adrian wasn’t sure he could ever forgive that for any reason.
Never mind the fact that he’d asked her to give up her innocence in order to gain the information required to ruin Adrian.
The bastard had not only pushed her to whore herself, he’d brought in a bawd to teach her the ins and outs of bed sport.
“You should leave,” Adrian seethed.
“I can help,” Harlowe argued. “I want her found as much as you do.”
“Do. Not. Pretend you have any affection for her.” Good God, he was going to hurl his bloody glass at the bastard’s head.
“To suppose I don’t would be absurd. Let’s not forget that I raised her.”
“To serve your agenda. To yield as a weapon when you saw fit. To die, if need be.”
“Have you ever considered the alternative?” Harlowe stared at him with stubborn determination.
“What do you think would have happened to her if she’d stayed in that orphanage?
If I’d not rescued her from that awful place?
I provided for her, educated her, and ensured she was well taken care of.
With my help she was able to purchase St. Christopher’s and rid it of Mrs. Hasham so the children left behind would not have to suffer her ruthless governance. ”
“You are not the hero you’re trying to turn yourself into,” Adrian said, his voice dangerously low.
“No,” Harlowe agreed, “but let’s not pretend I’m an absolute monster either.
You know as well as I that your wife would not have amounted to anything had I not taken her in.
Her best hope would have been of becoming a maid, but it’s far more likely she’d have had to make do as a cotton-mill worker.
Or worse. As for the rest of St. Christopher’s children, more might have died in Miss Hasham’s care.
At least now they’re being properly educated with a chance of seeking decent employment later as governesses and tutors. ”
It infuriated Adrian to know how right Harlowe was. Whatever disastrous conclusion Samantha’s life with him had led to, it would without doubt have been worse for her if he hadn’t brought her to Clearview. Worse for Adrian too since it was unlikely their paths would have crossed.
Even if they had, she wouldn’t have been the same woman — his perfect match. It was her training that made her so. Besides which, he was almost embarrassed to admit that he wouldn’t have married her if she’d been working class. And her station in life was all thanks to Harlowe.
Blast him.
“You may not want to agree,” Harlowe said, in response to which Adrian frowned, “but you know I’m right.”
“Even if you are, there’s nothing you can do,” Adrian told him wearily. “I’ve no idea where she’s being held.”
“I trust you’ve already searched the place from which she was taken?”
“Of course.” Adrian downed the remainder of his brandy in one big gulp and set the glass aside. “I’ve also asked everyone I can think of to aid me in the hunt. Hopefully something will turn up later today or at some point tomorrow.”
Harlowe dipped his chin, his gaze on the floor. “She’s a strong woman and she’s been through tough situations before. There’s a chance she’ll get out of this on her own.”
“Finn O’Leary will never allow that to happen.”
Harlowe’s head snapped back, his gaze colliding with Adrian’s. “That’s who has her?”
“You know him?”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard of him.” Harlowe scoffed. “I’m guessing her abduction has something to do with you.”
The skin across Adrian’s shoulders tightened. “Why would you suppose that?”
“Because he’s exactly the sort of man you or your father would have had dealings with in the past.” One raised eyebrow demanded an answer.
Adrian was beginning to wish he’d ended this conversation sooner. He stared at Harlowe and finally told him, “His father may have died at my hands.”
Incredulity widened Harlowe’s gaze for a second before a bit of broken off laughter escaped him. “And you have the gall to accuse me of putting your wife in danger?”