23. Chapter 23
The wooden edge of the desktop dug into Muriel's hands, the pain only a fraction of the torment slashing her heart.
Fletcher. Dear, sweet Fletcher. A boy who combed the beaches after a storm to rescue starfish and return them to the sea. The most innocent of them all had been caught in a net meant for Muriel. She had to cut him free before any harm befell him.
Instinct told her to fall at Octavia Underhill's feet and beg for mercy.
To offer herself in Fletcher's place. Perhaps Mrs. Underhill would still find value in her singing voice.
She could take Muriel on tour and keep all the proceeds.
Muriel would gladly forfeit her own freedom to secure Fletcher's.
But even as she lurched away from the desk to run from the room, an unearthly calm settled over her.
Jumbled, panicked thoughts clicked into order, and a plan crystalized.
"Vanessa." Muriel cast a quick glance at the clock on the shelf across from the desk. "Find Mrs. Underhill. Tell her that Zane be trackin' down the journal and will meet her at the dunes west of the hotel at eight-thirty."
"Yes, miss."
Thankfully, the young maid responded to the instruction without question and hurried from the office to carry out her assigned task.
Mrs. Underhill would likely wonder why Muriel was sending Zane to hand over the journal instead of seeing to the task herself, but Vanessa would be able to answer honestly that she didn't know.
Zane's hand came to rest on Muriel's back, and she pivoted to face him. Emotion surged, and she had to fight off the temptation to collapse against his chest and let him hold her. But she couldn't afford the luxury of basking in his comfort right now. Time was ticking, and every moment counted.
"I need ye to go after yer da. Tell him what's happened. Beg him to give ye the journal. Everything will be easier if he does, but I'll not be puttin' all me eggs in that basket. Mrs. Underhill can't be trusted to uphold her end of the bargain."
Zane searched Muriel's face, and his brow crinkled. "I'll do everything I can to convince him to help. But there's no guarantee he'll surrender, even to help a child. What should we do if I don't get it?"
Bless him for listening instead of arguing. She didn't have the mental strength to fight him and Mrs. Underhill tonight.
"Do what Vanessa suggested—use the replacement journal.
Stall as long ye can, refuse to hand it over until Fletcher is safely on shore.
Whatever ye can think to do. If she's workin' with smugglers, though, there's a good chance she'll have hired men to take the journal from ye by force. So be careful."
"Where will you be?"
Muriel set her jaw. "Rescuin' Fletcher."
Zane reared back. "What? How?"
She paced to the bookcase, plotting her course aloud more to settle it in her mind than to explain it to him.
"The sun will be settin' soon. If ye lend me yer carriage, I can make a stop by me house to grab me suit then get to the hotel and scout out the location of the boat anchored offshore.
The fishin' boats will all be in by now, so there's likely to be only the one.
It'll be dusk by then, but that'll play in our favor.
They won't see me comin'. I'll slip into the water slightly to the east and use the longshore currents to guide me west. Fletcher's a grand swimmer, so if I can signal him, he might be able to slip overboard without the smugglers noticin'.
If they have him tied, I'll have to climb aboard to free him, but they'll be watchin' the shore, not the sea, so I should be able to climb aboard without anyone bein' the wiser. "
"That's too dangerous, Muriel." Zane ran a hand down his face, his eyes tortured. "What if they see you? They could . . ." His voice choked, and he tore his gaze away from her. "You'll barely be dressed, and . . . well . . . smugglers are rough men. It could go very badly."
Muriel clasped his arm. "I have to go, Zane.
I'm the only one who can make that swim.
But you can send in reinforcements. Go and get Grandpa Clem and me da.
If Fletcher's missin', Liam and Da will be huntin' fer him.
Probably at the docks and rail yard. Find them, if ye have time, but don't miss yer appointment with Mrs. Underhill.
If she signals the boat before I can get to Fletcher, we might lose him. "
Unwanted tears rose in her eyes, but she ruthlessly batted them away.
"I'll not let her hurt him, Zane. I won't."
He held her gaze, his jaw working as if arguments were beating on the back of his teeth, ready to pour out. He swallowed them, though, and gave a quick nod. "I won't either."
His vow strengthened her spirit and dried her eyes.
Then he raised a brow. "You better swim home to me, Muriel Quinn. I don't aim to live my life without you."
"I will. I promise." She'd come too far to lose him now.
He leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. "I love you."
Her eyes slid closed for just a heartbeat. "I love ye, too," she whispered. Then she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. "Come on."
Zane led Muriel to the carriage house and found the family carriage already hitched and ready to go. He sent a prayer of thanks heavenward, but it was cut short by the groom who protested when Zane handed Muriel into the equipage.
"Sorry, sir. Your father asked me to ready the carriage and drive him to the lodge. I expect him any minute. I can hitch up the grays to the other buggy, though, so you can drive your lady home."
Zane shook his head. "There's no time for that.
A boy's life is in danger." He finished handing Muriel into the carriage then closed the door.
"I need you to stay with Miss Quinn. Drive her wherever she asks to go, no matter how unconventional the request might seem. It's imperative, Eddie. Please."
The young groom shifted from foot to foot. "But Mr. Zane, your daddy pays my salary. I can't just ignore his orders."
"I'll deal with my father and take full responsibility. You have my word." Knowing his father was coming to the carriage house saved him the time of tracking him down.
When Eddie made no move to climb into the driver's seat, Zane touched the man's shoulder. "Please, Eddie. We just learned Miss Quinn's nephew has been kidnapped."
The groom's eyes rounded. "Kidnapped?"
Zane nodded. "Yes. He's only ten. Please. We have a plan to retrieve him, but time is of the essence."
"God help him." Eddie swallowed hard then met Zane's gaze with determination. "I'll take her, sir. And I'll not spare the horses."
Zane clapped him on the back. "Good man. Thank you."
Eddie scampered up into the driver's box and took up the reins. With a click of his tongue and a snap of the lines, Eddie set the horses in motion.
"What the devil?" Father jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding being clipped by the moving carriage. "Get back here, you fool! That's my transport."
"Not anymore." Zane hurried to intercept him. "I commandeered the vehicle for Muriel."
"Bah." Father shoved past him. "That girl is a plague."
Zane snagged his father's arm and twirled him around, ignoring the scowl of disbelief on his sire's face. "That girl is going to be my wife. And if you will cease defaming her for a moment, I'll explain what is happening."
Father jerked his arm away from Zane's hold and tugged his coat sleeve back into its proper place. "I see what is happening plainly enough. You've chosen that gold-digging Jezebel over your own flesh and blood. I should write you out of my will this very night."
"Do it!" Zane's veins throbbed in his neck. "I don't want your money. I want to save a young boy's life. That's what's at stake here. Or is a child's life less important than your date at the lodge?"
Father's scowl tightened. "What nonsense are you spewing now?"
"Muriel's nephew has been abducted. Mrs. Underhill is using him as leverage to ensure we hand over that journal you stole."
His father scoffed. "Please. You're far too gullible. Can't you see that girl's still manipulating you? It's all about that stupid book. She doesn't care about you at all."
A roar of frustration swelled in Zane's throat, begging for release.
"For pity's sake. Can you set your suspicions aside for two seconds?
Muriel wasn't the one who told me. Mrs. Underhill's maid told us.
Right after you left your office. Mrs. Underhill has hired a group of smugglers to do her dirty work.
They have Fletcher stowed away on a boat anchored offshore.
If I don't hand over her journal, the boy will be dumped at sea. "
"It's a bluff." Father's eyes didn't quite match his casual, unconcerned tone.
They dodged side-to-side as if he were calculating the odds at a high-stakes poker game.
"Octavia might have paid to have a boat weigh anchor offshore to lend credence to her story, but she'd not harm a child.
She's a woman. Women don't have the stomach for things like that. "
"What if you're wrong?" Zane pressed. "Can you live with a child's blood on your hands? I can't. I'm going to that meeting whether you give me the journal or not."
"Don't be a fool. This isn't your problem. Let Miss Quinn and that mountain of a father of hers handle it. There's no reason for you to get involved."
"No reason?" Zane's hands slapped against his sides in exasperation. "What about common decency? Honor? I gave my word to Muriel that I'd help her, and I aim to do just that."
Zane huffed out a disgusted breath and strode for the exit. He needed to find Grandpa Clem.
"Zane. Wait." His father chased him down and took hold of his arm. "It could be dangerous, son. If you show up empty-handed, Octavia could take her anger out on you. On this family."
Zane spun on his father. "By telling your secrets, you mean? Do you never stop thinking of yourself? A ten-year-old boy's life is hanging in the balance, and all you care about is your own position."
"Hang my position," Father growled. "I care about you. If that woman hired smugglers, they'll not balk at taking their pound of flesh. We nearly lost you after that boating accident. I won't allow you to place yourself in danger again."
"You have no say in the matter. I'm going whether you approve or not." Zane turned to leave.
"You can't show up without the journal, Zane."
He halted and turned to face his father. "Then give it to me." He extended his hand. "Please."
Father rubbed a hand over his face and paced a few steps away. "But if this is all a ruse, I'll be forfeiting my advantage for nothing."
"Then come with me," Zane dared. "See for yourself if the boy is in trouble. Decide if I'm worthy of making the sacrifice."
"Fine! But the journal is staying with me."
Of course it was. Zane gestured toward the house.
"Go fetch it from whatever lockbox you stashed it in.
I'll find Grandpa Clem and meet you back here.
We have to find Patrick Quinn and send him after Muriel as quickly as possible.
Otherwise she'll be facing down a boat full of smugglers on her own. "