Chapter 21 #2
“The situations are entirely different,” Adrian snapped, hands balling into fists. “You chose to send her into hazardous situations. What I did was incidental. It happened a decade ago. Long before she and I ever met.”
Harlowe sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose and appeared to massage the corners of his eyes. When he met Adrian’s gaze next, he appeared more relaxed — more ready to work toward a solution together.
His next words confirmed this. “What do you propose we do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve searched the entire area surrounding Duke Street.
I’ve knocked on doors and spoken with anyone who might have seen what happened.
Only one witness has been found so far. Her account matched my coach driver’s and told me that the carriage carrying Samantha was headed toward Oxford Street, but that doesn’t help much. ”
He dropped into one of the armchairs. The weight of failure and hopelessness bore down upon him with unrelenting force.
“I’ve met with my associates and have told them to ask around.
Maybe we’ll get lucky and find someone with useful information to share — someone who saw Samantha after she was abducted. ”
“I’ll have Tara and Holly check the docks. There are numerous warehouses there. Ships too. If I were to kidnap someone, that’s probably where I’d take them.”
He made a valid point. “Thank you.”
“Besides that, I suppose we wait.” There was a pause, and then Harlowe said, “You ought to get some rest.”
Adrian scoffed. Was the man demented? “My wife is missing. That bloody Irishman might be torturing her as we speak, and you want me to climb into my comfortable bed and sleep?”
“You’ll be no use to her if you’re over-exhausted, and I’m guessing you’ve been awake for thirty hours by now.”
“Thirty-four, to be precise.”
Harlowe made a throaty sound and prepared to take his leave. “You’ll be no good to her if your reflexes are lax. Once you find her location and launch a rescue, you’ll need to be at the top of your game.”
It incensed him how right Harlowe was, but there was no getting around the fact that his vision was starting to blur and that he was struggling to think straight.
A knock at the door brought Elks into the room. He was followed by a maid who carried a tray containing what smelled like a hearty meal.
“This just arrived,” Elks said while the maid set the tray on the table. He handed Adrian a missive.
Adrian took it and tore the seal while Elks and the maid departed. He unfolded the paper and read the few lines. A flat feeling settled deep in his gut and he looked to Harlowe. “None of my contacts have turned up anything yet, but they’ll keep trying.”
“I’ll do the same and keep you apprised. In the meantime, eat and sleep.”
Adrian only nodded and Harlowe left. The sound of the front door opening and closing echoed around Adrian. He glanced at the tray the maid had brought and his stomach rumbled. When had he last eaten? He couldn’t recall and was suddenly ravenous.
He repositioned himself so it would be easier to reach the tray, then took a bit of the meatloaf Cook had prepared. Delicious. The potatoes were good too, especially with the spiced gravy. He ate until there was nothing left, then sank against his chair.
Where are you?
He felt as though he ought to be able to sense her location.
Harlowe’s suggestion that she could be at the docks had merit. A boat would make an especially fine spot since it could be easily moved. In which case, she might not be in London any longer. Hell, even the carriage could have taken her out of the city.
No. She had to be close. O’Leary’s motive had to be vengeance.
In which case he meant to use her in order to bend Adrian to his will.
* * *
Dorian Harlowe entered the modest church located on Roupell Street and approached the altar.
The information Croft had provided was priceless.
It was imperative not to squander it. For if Harlowe could locate Samantha first and save her, it might repair the rift between them. More importantly, she’d be in his debt.
Right now, with Croft exhausted and in need of rest, time was on Dorian’s side.
He approached the altar, where Vicar Belfrage was in the process of lighting candles. The clergyman was a trusted friend. He’d served with Dorian in the army decades ago, and had since helped set up a spy network that employed former soldiers.
Belfrage registered Dorian’s arrival and glanced his way. A nod of acknowledgement followed before he resumed his task.
“I’ve a message for your parishioners,” Dorian said once he reached the vicar’s side.
He fell silent and watched while a spill was used to transfer the flame from one candle to the next, then added, “There’s an Irishman in Town named Finn O’Leary.
He’s captured one of my operatives so I need him found. ”
Belfrage finished lighting the last few candles, then snuffed out the spill and turned to face Dorian. “Do you have a general idea of where to look?”
“Considering his line of work and what he’s up to, he’ll have picked a spot where no one’s going to ask many questions.”
“An abandoned location or a place full of other criminals.” Belfrage met Dorian’s gaze more fully. “I’ll put the entire team on it and have them alert their men. That should cover most of the City. If we’re lucky, we’ll have the information you seek by tomorrow afternoon.”
* * *
Murry’s head pounded. In fact, his whole body ached.
Lying on his side, he dragged air into his lungs and coughed, then flicked his eyes open.
Darkness bore down upon him. He tried to recall what had happened. Had he not managed to free himself?
Yes, but the man he’d attacked had been prepared. Worse, he’d not been alone. Together, the pair must have knocked Murry out.
He prepared to sit, only to feel a cutting sensation against his wrists. His ankles were bound as well. The two restraints were joined behind him, forcing his spine to arc.
Standing would not be an option. Hell, he couldn’t even get onto his knees.
All he could do was lie there and wait to discover what happened next.