Chapter 6
Meandering down a dark alley, Torrance made his way through town toward Phoebe’s residence. With plenty of time before he was to meet the woman who preoccupied his thoughts, he chose to make his way by foot rather than travel by coach.
No longer worried or preoccupied with thoughts of a mission, he casually clasped his hands behind his back and let his imagination run wild. An image of Phoebe standing next to him as the Crestwood’s master of ceremonies announced their arrival filled his mind. Baron and Baroness Kilman… Bah. What nonsense! The Crestwood ball was a fortnight away and he’d already been rejected by Phoebe…twice.
His skin on the back of his neck prickled and he turned to scan the empty alley. He was being paranoid. Overly sensitive. No longer an agent for the Home Office, he had no reason to believe danger was right around the corner. Unable to quell the alarm bells that were now ringing in his ears, he turned back around and exited the alley to walk along the gas-lamp-lit streets in a slow but even pace. Years of training as an agent snapped his mind into focus. With better visibility, his nerves calmed and Torrance immediately assessed the situation. The streets were fairly empty with the occasional hack passing by. Nothing to be alarmed about. Marching with his hands at his sides rather than behind his back, Torrance walked another two blocks before looking over his shoulder. A shadow ducked behind a hack parked in front of White’s. There was no longer a doubt—he was being followed. But why and by whom?
Altering his destination would be the wise choice. He should lure his tracker away from Phoebe and head toward his own dwellings, except his intuition screamed at him to continue with his original plan. Debating over what to do or second guessing oneself almost always placed an agent in danger. He reminded himself once more that he was no longer an agent. He was a baron being trailed by a stranger. Mayhap it was merely a pickpocket. After all, it wasn’t uncommon to hear of gentlemen well into their cups being easy prey on the well-to-do streets of St. James. The absolute rules that had been drilled into his head by Archbroke had Torrance turning back toward his townhouse.
Only a few blocks later, when he was confronted by two burly men, did he realize that he’d fallen directly into his stalkers plan. A cloth bag slipped over his head as he was wrestled to the ground. Bloody hell, he was being kidnapped. A hard blow to the head produced flashes of light before him and then darkness fell.
Phoebe pacedalong the garden wall. Where was Kilman! She was going to wring his neck for making her worry. Stopping at the end of the path, she raised onto her tiptoes and scanned the area for at least the hundredth time. Her nerves had had enough. Flat footed, she placed her hands over her face. Now was not the time to cry, but there was no holding back the moisture that had threatened to spill down her cheeks all evening.
Kilman was late. He was never late to anything. Not once in all the years she’d known him had the man not arrived early. He made it a point to arrive to all his appointments, whether a social engagement or official business for the Home Office, with enough time to either survey the area in advance for danger or to observe the arrival of the other party. Any well-trained agent knew it to be unwise to dally about, which was partially the reason she could never be an agent. Phoebe was perpetually running to catch up, often falling behind her peers no matter how hard she tried to keep up. She was late for everything. Late to debut. Late to bloom into womanhood. Late…
At the susurrus of slippers on the hard dirt packed ground, Phoebe whirled around to come face to face with Letty.
Her maid came to a stop and bent at the waist to catch her breath. “Kilman is missing.”
“Missing?” Phoebe couldn’t believe the news.
“Lord Archbroke is attempting to gather as much information on Kilman’s last known whereabouts. Lillian’s brother, Lord Foxton, was dispatched to find you. Danny and Lord Foxton are waiting for you in the receiving room as we speak.” Letty grabbed her hand and together they ran back into the house through the rear service entrance.
Once inside, Phoebe lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “It’s likely Lillian will find her way here. Have Danny watch out back and you monitor the front.”
Letty nodded and dashed off without questioning Phoebe, which was a first.
Phoebe made her way through the dark house, treading carefully so as not to give away her approach. The rumble of male voices came from her papa’s study. Her papa and his friend were probably playing hazard or some other card game. She froze in the hall, unable to move past the room that she knew to avoid at all costs. Ever since Kilman had pointed out that her papa’s so-called friends gave her peculiar looks anytime she was near, she purposefully evaded being in the same vicinity as any of them.
Kilman. Where was he?
Her pulse raced until she heard his calming voice echo through her mind. Walk fast. Even if one of those old foxes call out to you, don’t stop. The man might be missing yet Kilman still remained with her and she was ever so grateful. She hoped she would get the opportunity to tell him so in person. Inhaling a deep breath, she propelled herself forward. Once she was safely past her papa’s study, she took in a calming breath and continued to creep closer to the room where Lord Foxton, a once renowned rake, awaited her.
Phoebe’s lips curved into a smile briefly as she recalled the rather entertaining Season when Miss Alice, now Countess Foxton, an agent for the Home Office, had put the poor man through the wringer before agreeing to marry him. The amount of patience Lord Foxton had exhibited warranted him a knighthood. Her smile fell away—Kilman was forever patient with her. Always explaining and reexplaining the many regulations placed upon agents and why she should not balk at the multitude of rules she was expected to adhere to. Following others” expectations had never been one of Phoebe’s strong suits; however, pretending to adhere to them was. Pushing her wayward thoughts to the back of her mind, she pressed her ear to the wood panel of the door.
Silence.
With no clues as to who or how many people were inside, Phoebe straightened and rolled back her shoulders. Her gaze fell to the flicker of candlelight at the threshold, the only indication that someone was inside. Argh. Why was she stalling? She wouldn’t find out details about the search for Kilman by remaining rooted to the spot. Her hand shook as she released the latch and pushed the door open.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the candlelit room.
When the trio of figures standing by the unlit fireplace turned around, Phoebe came to an abrupt halt. “Lord Archbroke. Lord Foxton. Lord Harrington.” Egad. Why in the blazes had Letty not informed her that Archbroke himself was here? She shook her head. Her maid had simply followed the man’s instructions as she had for years—without question.
Phoebe directed her gaze to Lord Harrington who had been the agent she’d had the most contact with apart from Kilman. “He’s gone missing?”
“Not by choice. We suspect he was kidnapped,” Lord Harrington answered and then asked a question of his own. “Do you know of his whereabouts?”
“You suspect me of orchestrating a kidnapping?”
Lord Archbroke ran his hand through his graying mane and kneaded the back of his neck. “Of course not, Lady Phoebe. We simply want to know when was the last time you saw him.”
She forced a smile and replied, “Earlier this eve, my lord, at the musical. However, he left before the festivities began.”
“Why did he leave?” Archbroke snapped.
The interrogation had begun, but if Kilman was in danger she needed to cooperate.
Phoebe walked over to the winged back chair facing the fireplace and asked, “You don’t mind if I sit, do you?” Kilman would have rolled his eyes if he’d been present. Sitting while the men stood could be perceived as taking a submissive stance. However, Phoebe had witnessed more than one occasion in which Lady Theo commanded the room from a seated position. If she could emulate her mentor’s confidence she might be able to turn the tide of the conversation in her favor.
Lord Foxton shifted his weight back and forth, while Lord Harrington eyed the seat next to her and Lord Archbroke began to pace. Clearly the men were both worried and agitated about the situation.
She needed to take the lead. “Who reported Kilman missing?”
“His valet reported Kilman had sent his carriage and four home, opting to take a walk before he was to meet you.”
Lord Foxton’s tone was not as accusatory as Lord Harrington’s had been, which gave Phoebe the courage to speak up. “I suppose no one has seen him since he left Lady Osbourne’s affair.”
Lord Harrington sat upon the edge of the settee and faced her. “Not exactly. One of my informants reported sighting Kilman near White’s, which is on the way here.”
Under attack, she blurted, “I had nothing to do with Kilman’s disappearance.”
“I don’t believe that to be the case.” Lord Archbroke lowered himself into the chair facing her. “I believe you are the reason Kilman has been taken.”
“Me? How could I possibly be responsible?”
Lord Foxton squatted next to her chair. “I suspect the events of tonight are linked to the little adventure you and my sister took a few weeks prior.”
“Why would the thieves kidnap Kilman? He wasn’t even present.”
“Because their ultimate goal is to get to you.” Lord Foxton’s features were solemn.
“I don’t understand.” She looked at each man in turn, her gaze landing on Lord Archbroke last. “Why Kilman?”
It was Lord Harrington who explained, “You must have mentioned him or given the bandits the impression he is important to you. You stole their treasure, now they took something of value to you.”
Lord Harrington’s conclusion that Kilman was a key figure in her life didn’t garner a reaction from the others in the room. Phoebe blinked and flickered her gaze between Lord Archbroke and Lord Foxton. How did they perceive her relationship with Kilman?
She and Kilman were partners with a shared interest to carry out and support the efforts directed by Lord Archbroke. He had been the agent and she was his informant. The truth was they had been cognizant of the prying eyes of society and had agreed to retain a professional distance when in public. Only when they met in private did they let their guards down and allow themselves to succumb to the magnetic attraction that drew them together. Over the years, there had been more than one occasion where they found themselves forced to spend hours pressed against one another in a tight space, or alone in the dark in each other”s arms, and even in rooms that contained only one bed, but they had been careful not to be seen. Heat flooded her cheeks at the memories.
Lord Archbroke cleared his throat, gaining her attention. “You are in love with Kilman, are you not?”
She’d never been confronted in such a manner, and it took her a moment to reply. “Of course.”
“Then why did you reject him?” Lord Foxton asked.
“I didn’t…” She paused. She hated having to explain her actions, but with Kilman’s future hanging in the balance she answered, “It was more important that Kilman be free to remain an agent than my wish to be wed to the man. Kilman needs the challenges he faces as an agent or he would go insane with boredom.” She shifted to look directly at Lord Archbroke. “I didn’t want him to forgo his future due to my mistakes.”
Lord Archbroke stood and began to pace in a tight circle in front of the windows. “When did you realize you were in love with Kilman?”
“Not long ago… when I—” Argh. Kilman’s disappearance was her fault.
She had sent word, seeking Kilman’s help while dealing with the crown jewel thieves. The brutes must have somehow intercepted her note that she had signed - With love, Phoebe. Only when she’d penned the note, believing her life was in real danger, had she fully acknowledged her feelings for the man who had made her life bearable for the past six years. Kilman was the reason she looked forward to the next day rather than merely existing, waiting for each day to pass.
The three men convened by the window, leaving her to sort through her own muddled thoughts. Apparently her half-spoken answer was sufficient. She studied the men huddled, heads together, strategizing over how best to locate Kilman. They were his family, they were what he needed most. Head bent, she clasped her hands in her lap, closed her eyes, and prayed. Prayed for Kilman’s safe return.