Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
T he longer Maria remained in one spot, the stiffer her muscles became. Her hips and shoulders were all but entirely numb from the painful position. She ached to stretch out, to rise up off the hard surface on which she lay. She was, however, supremely grateful that the fog had lifted from her mind, despite Francis’ attempts to dose her with the bitter liquid twice more.
“I believe that we shall leave the note out of this parcel,” Francis mused from his place across the small room, his voice chillingly gleeful. “Our message will come across nicely this way.”
Maria remained immobile, her breathing rhythmic and eyes closed. He could not know that she was conscious, for he would certainly bind her wrists and ankles.
“I wonder if he has seen the fire yet,” Francis continued in his joyful tone. “Do you think he’s heartbroken?” His laughter echoed menacingly in the room, and Maria fought the need to shiver.
Devastated . Merely the thought of all that she had lost made her eyes burn with tears. Now, however, was not the time to dwell on her feelings. She could scarcely feign sleep while weeping.
Instead, she focused her attention on memorizing the precise way in which she lay, the fold of her skirts, her hair, and the exact position of her limbs. When she carried out her plan, it must be flawless, or she would not retain the element of surprise.
She’d listened to Francis’ movements, knew when he put his pistols down and when he carried them close.
“There,” he said reverently, the sound creeping along her skin. “Now, don’t move until I get back!” His harsh laughter grated along her nerves.
There was a shift of fabric and the scrape of wood against wood, and the room fell silent.
Maria hesitated, then cracked one eye open. She was in a dimly lit attic that was shockingly furnished for only one servant—the space was designed for at least two—with a writing table and chair placed in a far corner. As much as she might like to learn more about the room in which she was held, she hadn’t much time.
Careful to observe where, precisely, she lay, she rose unsteadily to her feet, pin prickles tingling over her aching body. Her head spun in a wave of dizziness, and she quickly steadied herself.
With wobbly steps, she reached the writing table and retrieved her dagger and the loaded pistol he’d left behind. Her breath came fast, and her pulse raced, her stomach swirling with the fear of being caught.
Francis had his weapon, and she did not know from which direction he would return. If she wished to take him by surprise, she hadn’t a choice but to lure the man in, and she could not do that by standing foolishly by when he entered.
Before she carried out her plan, however, she must know…
Steadier now, she crept silently to the small, murky dormer window and peered out into the cloudy day. Carriages trundled along the cobblestoned street, finely dressed people strolled along the walk, and governesses guided children toward the green. It was, indeed, a familiar street, bustling with activity, and yet so very far from her reach. Grosvenor Square.
Maria’s chest tightened and her blood ran cold as realization dawned. She was in the house directly beside Jasper’s! This was how Francis was getting inside—through the attic. And Lady Cartwright must indeed have aided him in keeping silent while the servants were abed on the other side of the wall.
She must have paid her servants a substantial sum for them to keep her guest ’s presence secret while she was alive. No doubt Harris and his men would glean that information from their interrogations, but by then it might be too late.
Francis was frighteningly adept at hiding himself and his movements; if Maria’s plan failed, there was a possibility that she would never be found.
With that troubling thought, she carefully positioned herself on the floor once more, adjusting her limbs, hair, and skirts just so. She hid her weapons among the folds of her skirts, closest to the hand that lay curled on the floor.
Her abdomen tightened with anxiety even as hope attempted to show itself. She was grateful for the dim light and cloud cover out of doors, for it lowered the chance of Francis noticing any part of her that mightn’t be in the correct place.
Every part of her body protested with pain and tingling numbness as she settled into position. Deepening her breaths, she focused on returning her body to a state of feigned sleep.
* * *
“Thank you all again for joining me,” Jasper said thickly. Christ, but his body was afire with worry.
He stood in his parlour, facing his sister, her family, Maria’s friends, and a select few of Maria’s paid staff who had offered their services—in addition to those among Harris’ staff currently on shift. Each of them sat or stood around the parlour’s seating area, leaning against the wall or a piece of furniture, waiting expectantly for more information.
The room was pregnant with fear and sorrow, and filled with the soft sounds of Thomas’ occasional grunts and clicks.
Jasper cleared his throat. “I realize that I am not in charge of this case, nor is it my place to insert myself in the Bow Street women’s business. And for that I apologize. Once Maria is found safely, I shall most happily return command to the exceptionally talented Miss Huntsbury.” He clasped his hands in front of himself to hide their tremble. “For the moment, however, we must devise a new plan of action.”
“Have you not had the Home Office searching this whole time?” Juliana asked, her dark brows puckered in a puzzled frown.
“As a matter of fact,” Jasper groused, “we’ve come to learn that the local magistrate—Sir Ludlow Vaughan—is the man who aided Francis in his escape from the noose. They’ve been planning a coup not only to gain Francis the dukedom, but also to be rid of our prime minister.”
“But that’s outrageous!” Juliana exclaimed.
“Holy hell,” Mr. Percy Baxter muttered.
“Indeed.” Jasper nodded. “Miss Huntsbury has assured me she will deal with the man.
A knock sounded at the parlour door, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. The tall footman bowed deeply and swallowed convulsively, his neck and cheeks growing a deep crimson.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but an urgent parcel just arrived for you.”
A muscle twitched beneath Jasper’s eye, but he reached a hand out and flicked his wrist. The footman rushed forward and deposited the small parcel in his hand, then hurriedly left with another mumbled apology.
Jasper’s attention narrowed to the writing on the parcel. Francis .
His skin grew cold, his hands damp with nervous perspiration, and… hell , but his eyes began to blur. He was a sodding mess.
Absently, he raised the parcel to his nose and sniffed. It seemed to be simple parchment; no lingering scent of laurel water. With shaking fingers, he untied the twine and opened the wrapping to reveal?—
“ Fucking hell ,” he cursed low, his voice hallow and hopeless even to his own ears.
He was distantly aware of the others, of their gasps, their cries of horror, and their vows to find Francis as they took in the parcel’s contents. Through it all, Jasper’s gaze never wavered.
In the parcel was a large clump of brown, curling hair, covered in soot and appearing singed along the edges.
* * *
Maria’s limbs had once more moved from pain and discomfort into a state of aching numbness. She wished so badly that she could move, but that was, of course, impossible.
Francis stomped across the room to presumably sit at his writing desk. His movements were stilted, agitated, and that made Maria’s stomach turn over with nerves. The man was entirely unpredictable, and when he was angry, even more so. He’d seemed rather pleased with himself earlier; what could have gone awry?
“The dukedom is mine ,” he muttered, his voice dripping with vitriol. “My father was the eldest. He cannot deny that.”
Parchment and fabric shifted, before the sound of a pen scratching against parchment reached her ears.
“He’ll not see my siblings dead and live to boast about it. Which is why my next gift must be more meaningful to the bastard.” His voice turned pensive and optimistic once more. “Mayhap a finger or two. Or her tongue—he seemed to enjoy it so much, might as well have it as a gift.”
Low, menacingly gleeful laughter filled the small room, sending gooseflesh over Maria’s skin.
He shifted once more, his steps softer now as he approached her.
“Open up for another dose, now, lovely lightskirt. We mustn’t have you awakening.”
The gentle clink of spoon against a glass vial told her how very close he was. Come closer , she silently urged. This was her moment, her one opportunity to rid herself—and London—of this madman. This went far beyond her assignment, or her desire to see Jasper and Juliana happy; this was a matter of her life, her dismemberment, her death.
The heat of his breath brushed her cheek as he leaned closer, and she stretched her fingers just far enough beneath the folds of her skirts to pull the hilt of her dagger tightly into her palm.
Now .
His spoon touched her lips, and in one upward arch, Maria sliced through his arm and chest.
Francis roared, scrambling backward and withdrawing his pistol, just as she aimed hers.
“Die, bitc?—”
Bang! Bang!
* * *
“It’s her sodding hair,” Jasper breathed, his body buzzing with horror and the burning desire to find his bastard of a cousin and bring him to justice.
“Are we able to trace the parcel’s origin?” Mr. Baxter asked.
Jasper inclined his head, his stomach churning. “I’ve never attempted it before, but I daresay it is worth the?—”
Bang! Bang!
Ice froze Jasper’s veins. “That wasn’t… That couldn’t be…”
Mr. Baxter nodded. “Gunfire.”
Jasper ran from the room, down the corridor and up the stairs through the foyer, continuing on until he reached the attic, out of breath and damp with perspiration. But it was as it had been before: rows of beds, tables, and the personal effects of his servants. No one else was in his home, and yet…
He turned to the others that had followed him. “Spread out. Search the grounds, the gardens, the scullery, fucking furniture, I don’t care. The man must be somewhere nearby, and I must know what he’s done to—” He couldn’t complete the thought, couldn’t even imagine that those shots had been for her.