Chapter 26
The blast threw Hadrian several feet, and he landed hard on the cobblestones.
He’d managed to get the Redmaynes out—he and Miss Redmayne had practically carried her father between them.
They’d managed to clear the building by more than a dozen yards before Hadrian felt the ominous shudder in his gut followed by the percussive roar that had thrown him.
He was struck by falling debris, a piece of which felt hot on his back, despite his clothing. His own memory of Spring-heeled Jack burning overwhelmed him. Panicked, he moved quickly to dislodge whatever had hit him.
It was difficult to see amidst the grit in the air. The alley was obscured by a dark cloud. Hadrian tried to breathe and coughed. How he prayed Tilda and Leach had escaped the alley before the blast. He needed to assist the Redmaynes to safety.
“Redmayne!” Hadrian called. “Miss Redmayne!”
“Here,” came a feminine reply. “Papa?”
Hadrian waved his arms through the dusty air and moved slowly. “Miss Redmayne?”
“I’m here.”
A hand grasped Hadrian’s calf. He looked down and made out Miss Redmayne’s form. “Can you walk?”
“I think so,” she replied. “I can’t see my father.”
“We’ll find him. Let’s get you to your feet.” Hadrian crouched down and offered her his hand. She rolled to her side and he rose, pulling her up. She clasped his wrist with her other hand until she was standing on her own.
She coughed. “Papa! Where are you?”
“Hadrian?”
Hadrian recognized that voice. Why was Tilda still in the bloody alley? His heart hammered anew as fear ignited in his chest. “Tilda! Where are you?”
“About halfway down the alley. Are you all right?”
“Yes. We need to find Redmayne.” Hadrian squeezed Miss Redmayne’s hand. “Is Leach with you?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice a ghost in the cloud from the debris and the smoke from the fire. “He’s fine.”
“Make your way out of the alley,” Hadrian called. “We’ll come to you.”
“Please hurry, Hadrian!” The worry and fear in her tone echoed his own.
He waved his free hand again, desperately trying to see through the haze. At last, it began to clear a little—enough that he could finally make out Redmayne’s form. “There, Miss Redmayne.” He pointed toward her father.
Together, they worked to turn him over.
“Papa! Can you hear me?” Poor Miss Redmayne sounded nearly hysterical.
Redmayne coughed, and his daughter threw herself over him as she sobbed anew.
“We must move out of the alley,” Hadrian urged them. “Mr. Redmayne, we must get you up.”
Miss Redmayne turned her head to look up at Hadrian. “I don’t think I can help bear his weight. Something hit my head and I don’t feel particularly steady.”
Damn. “Tilda! Send help when you can!” he shouted as loud as he could, hoping she wasn’t too far away to hear him amid all the chaos.
“Miss Redmayne, can you walk on your own?” Hadrian asked.
“I can try.” She tried to stand and wobbled so that she tilted heavily to the side, and Hadrian had to catch her.
“I’ll help you out of the alley first,” Hadrian said, pulling her up once more.
“No, I can’t leave my father!” She turned to look down at Redmayne who appeared to be opening his eyes.
“Go, Florence,” he croaked. “Please, I need you to be safe. For your mother.”
Hadrian swept Florence into his arms. “This will be faster.” He took off at a near run toward Nine Elms Lane. As he neared the opening to the alley, the air cleared considerably but was still filled with dust and smoke.
He saw Tilda standing near a police van! Teague had arrived. In fact, the detective inspector rushed toward him along with Sergeant Wycombe and two constables.
Teague’s dark auburn brows were pulled tight over his eyes. “What can we do?”
Hadrian set Miss Redmayne on her feet and looked to one of the constables.
“Can you help her to the van or perhaps to my coach? She’s been struck in the head by debris and is also likely weak from her captivity, so she’s not steady on her feet.
” The constable moved to take her, putting his arm rather awkwardly around her waist.
“We’ve a cab coming to transport anyone needing medical attention,” Teague said.
“And the fire brigade should be here shortly.” He turned to the constable.
“Take her over there with Leach, for now.” He gestured to the railway yard across the lane.
Leach was indeed seated on the ground, propped against the side of a small, brick building.
The constable nodded and tried to escort her across the street. She would not move, however. Her gaze fixed on Hadrian. “You must rescue my father!”
“I will,” Hadrian promised. The poor girl had been through so much. She was covered with soot so that her hair didn’t even appear blonde just now. “But you must move to the other side of the street where the air is clearer. Your father would want you to do that.”
She nodded though she appeared defeated. The constable guided her across the street.
“Where’s Redmayne?” Teague asked, drawing Hadrian’s attention back to the matter at hand—rescuing Redmayne.
“In the alley, about fifteen or twenty yards from the building that exploded,” Hadrian replied as he pivoted to return to the alley. “Come, I’ll show you.”
Teague put his hand up, blocking Hadrian’s forward movement. “No. You’ve done enough. Go and let Miss Wren tend to you. She’s frantic.” He clapped Hadrian’s shoulder before dashing into the smoke with Wycombe and the other constable.
Hadrian didn’t have to walk to Tilda, for she met him halfway. She slipped her arms around him though they were both covered in grime. He held her tightly and, as she put her head against his chest, he took a long, deep breath of cleaner air.
She lifted her head and looked up at him. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I worried the same.” He kissed her forehead, heedless of the soot—or anyone who might be watching. “How is Leach?”
“In some pain, but the wound doesn’t seem too terrible.
The bleeding has slowed a great deal, but a constable is still keeping pressure on it.
I should go take over now that you’re here so the constable can do his job.
” She glanced up and down Nine Elms Lane.
“People are starting to gather, and they’ll need to be kept at bay. ”
“Teague said there’s a cab on the way that will transport the Redmaynes. We can take Leach in the coach.” He froze a moment then looked down the lane to where they’d parked the coach. It wasn’t there but Hadrian saw it a bit farther down. “The horses were likely spooked by the blast.”
“Leach concluded the same, but it seems the boy was able to keep them from bolting,” Tilda said.
Relieved, Hadrian started across the street. Tilda clung tightly to his arm as if she couldn’t bear to be away from him. That was more than acceptable to him, for he did not want to be away from her either just now. Or perhaps ever.
“You’ll drive?” she asked.
He nodded. “You can sit in the coach and take care of Leach, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I feel absolutely terrible about what happened to him.”
“I’ll wager if given the choice, he’d do it again. He’s quite committed to supporting your work.”
“That doesn’t mean he should want to get shot,” she murmured.
Hadrian chuckled. “I don’t think he wants that specifically.”
They reached Leach who looked up with a weary smile. “How do I look, my lord?”
“Perhaps slightly less blackened than me,” Hadrian estimated. “How’s the leg?”
“It’ll heal.” Leach summoned a smile for him, and Hadrian felt a rush of affection for his dedicated coachman.
“We’ll get you home and send for a physician,” Hadrian promised.
“Dr. Giles,” Tilda suggested.
The mention of Dr. Giles reminded him of Tilda’s recently wounded shoulder. His attention snapped to that part of her. “How are you? You only just had the stitches out last week.”
“I fell due to the blast, but it seems fine.” She moved her shoulder. “A bit stiff, but it has been periodically. Dr. Giles said that could last another few days.”
“Still, I want him to look at it,” Hadrian said with concern.
The fire brigade arrived, and things became even more chaotic. Teague, Wycombe, and the constable emerged from the alley carrying Redmayne. They brought him to the cab which had just pulled up in front of where Hadrian and Tilda stood with Leach and Miss Redmayne.
Teague and the others carefully set Redmayne into the cab. Miss Redmayne said she would care for him on the way home and thanked them all.
“I’ll come by later,” Teague said. “Both to check on Mr. Redmayne and to conduct an interview with you about your kidnapping. I’m sorry to bother you with it, but it’s essential we record what happened whilst it’s fresh in your memory.”
“I understand. I hope you catch him. He’s horrible.”
“Catch him?” Teague turned his head and goggled at Tilda and Hadrian. “What happened?”
“There’s much to explain,” Tilda said. “Starting with the identity of the second kidnapper—Nicholas Larkin, the property manager at the Albion Theatre. Though that is an alias. He was originally known as Lawrence. He and Redmayne worked together a quarter century ago, and Redmayne excluded him from a patent for a device that Lawrence helped invent.”
Teague gaped at them. “Kidnapping Miss Redmayne was an act of vengeance? That’s completely different from the kidnapping of Lady Priscilla, and we now know Miss Chadwick wasn’t kidnapped at all. How did Larkin manage to escape?”
“He’d flooded the building with gas and lit candles everywhere so that when the level of gas was high enough, it would ignite and cause the blast,” Hadrian explained. “We barely rescued the Redmaynes and Leach, who Larkin shot when I threatened to shoot him if he didn’t surrender.”
“Damn.” Teague shook his head then exhaled. “We’ll find Larkin. We know who he is now.”
“He has Redmayne’s ransom,” Tilda said. “And likely the ransoms from Chadwick and His Grace. It’s possible he’s fleeing London or even England as we speak.”