When the duke finally stepped outside, he was no longer alone. A young woman, dressed like a prostitute, hung on his arm.
Trenton coughed to hide his surprise, but Greystone and his companion paid him no attention. The woman played with the fur on the collar of the duke’s cloak and giggled when he whispered something in her ear.
Stepping up to the driver’s box, Trenton pulled the team to the curb, keeping his head averted. Greystone gave the woman’s behind a meaningful grab as he handed her up, then laughed and climbed in.
“Hurry,” the duke ordered, rapping on the roof.
Trenton merged the carriage into the street, heading north, away from the city’s lights and people. Silence reigned inside the conveyance, making him wonder what was happening, but he was grateful for whatever kept Nathaniel’s father from noticing where they were going.
By the time Greystone finally realized they were heading in the wrong direction, only cattle and a few lonely farmhouses dotted the countryside.
“Bloody idiot!” he cursed, rapping on the roof. “Where are you taking us?”
Trenton pulled to the side of the road. They’d come far enough. “Get out,” he cried.
The command proved unnecessary. The duke barreled through the door, still bellowing at Trenton, who he assumed to be his coachman.
Trenton pulled his knife from his sleeve and jumped to the ground.
“What’s this?” Greystone’s rage-reddened face gaped in astonishment. “Who are you? What do you think you’re doing?”
“Never mind me. It’s what you do that counts, if you want to come out of this alive,” Trenton said.
“See here, if this is some sort of robbery attempt, I carry very little on my person—”
“I’m not after your money, just a bit of information.”
The sun’s rays were just creeping over the horizon, and Trenton let the light reflect off the blade of his knife.
“What do you want?” the duke repeated.
“I’m going to ask you a few simple questions, and you’re going to answer them. Understood? Now, where’s Nathaniel Kent?”
Greystone’s face hardened. “I don’t know.”
Trenton stepped forward, the point of his knife less than a foot away from the older man’s midsection, which was still leaner than most men of his years. “I’ll ask you once more. Where is Nathaniel?”
The woman poked her head out of the coach and gave a startled cry, but Greystone waved her back inside and she quickly complied.
The duke’s gaze flicked to the knife, then back to Trenton’s face. “He’s in Liverpool. I had him taken out of London because I have a friend, a magistrate, who agreed to put him in a gaol there for a while.”
“So Nathaniel is alive.” Trenton tried not to show his relief. His friend was in gaol, but he was alive. “That’s all I needed to know. Now, move over to that tree.”
Suspicion entered Greystone’s eyes. “What are you going to do now?”
“Less than you deserve, to be sure. Now move!”
The duke backed up to the tree and Trenton tied him to it.
“I’ll take the carriage for now,” Trenton said, “and drop your lady friend near the edge of town. I’m sure she’ll bring help, though it might take a day or two to find you.”
He gave Nathaniel’s father a mocking salute, then stowed his knife and climbed into the driver’s seat, laughing as he drove away.
* * *
Alexandra groaned silently as she dusted yet another small table in the drawing room near the main entrance of Greystone House, a room she hated for its excessive conglomeration of furniture and bric-a-brac. It had been several days since she had sent her message to Trenton, but she’d received no response. Had the milkman not delivered her letter as he had agreed?
“There you are.” Lord Clifton filled the doorway.
“Good morning, my lord.” She smiled congenially, pushing her fears for Trenton and Nathaniel to the back of her mind. “Are you finished with breakfast so soon?”
“Yes. Breakfast was a brief affair. We’ve had some unfortunate business to attend to this morning.”
Alexandra kept her voice as neutral as possible. “I’m sorry to hear that, my lord. Everything is going to be all right, I hope?”
He nodded, studying her. “You’ll never believe what happened, though.”
She finished wiping off the whatnot shelf in the corner and began to replace the extensive collection of porcelain thimbles and birds she had removed. “What’s that?”
“Evidently Nathaniel has disappeared, and his men are looking for him. They held my father at knifepoint at dawn.” He picked up an ivory elephant that graced the table next to the window and examined it thoughtfully.
Alexandra paused from her work. “Nathaniel has disappeared? From Newcastle, you mean?”
“From everywhere. Like I said, his men are looking for him. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?” He set the elephant back where he had found it and turned to look at her with such intensity that Alexandra almost dropped the vase she cradled in her lap.
“How would I?”
“I was just wondering how they knew where to find my father.”
Alexandra set the vase down. “I’m sure I don’t know. Perhaps they followed him.”
The marquess smiled and crossed the floor, coming to stand behind her. “You’re probably right. I’ve always liked you, you know. You have a certain… appeal.”
He touched the nape of her neck, but Alexandra didn’t move. She felt the pressure of his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him, and risked a glance at his face. The look in Lord Clifton’s eyes reminded her of Rat and the way he had looked at her in Nathaniel’s cabin.
The marquess’s hand traveled over her shoulder and traced her collarbone, then started down toward her breast. His gaze followed his hand as it moved inexorably lower until Alexandra could stand his touch no longer. She pulled away, attempting to hide her distaste by averting her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You didn’t react that way when Nathaniel touched you.”
She remembered how her pulse had raced at the slightest contact with the pirate captain. Clifton’s fondling brought nothing but revulsion. “I had no choice when Nathaniel touched me.”
“I can give you much. I have never taken a mistress before, but I would be generous. I could get you out of here”—he glanced around them—”and into a place of your own. You would have clothes and jewelry, nearly everything you want.”
Alexandra shook her head. “You have no idea of what I want.”
“I know what every woman wants. Are you so different?”
“I want a family of my own,” she countered.
“I didn’t say children were out of the question.”
Alexandra moved back, putting a few feet between them. “I didn’t say I want children. I said I want a family—and that means a husband.”
A look of irritation descended on Clifton’s face, and his next words sounded incredulous. “Certainly you’re not so naive. You can’t expect me to marry you. Someday I’ll bear the title in my father’s place. The son of a duke can’t marry a maid.”
“No, of course not.” Alexandra let bitterness ooze through her voice. By demanding the one thing Lord Clifton could never give her, she hoped to keep him at arm’s distance until she was able to help Nathaniel. Depending on what Trenton had learned at the Greentree Tavern, that could be sooner rather than later.
“I’ve got to finish my work,” she said. “If you will excuse me.” Setting the porcelain birds back on their shelf with a clink, she skirted past the marquess and darted through the door.
* * *
That night Alexandra found a small gift lying on her pillow. She worked later than the other maids, so they were usually asleep by the time she climbed to the attic. Tonight was no different. She glanced around the room, wishing she could ask one of them where the package had come from, then contented herself with opening it.
Soon the answer was obvious. A pair of diamond ear-bobs sparkled in the mellow light of her candle, simple yet elegant, and obviously expensive. A note fluttered to the ground from the open box. She retrieved it, then bent toward the light so she could read the sloppy writing of Lord Clifton’s left hand.
Dear Alexandra,
Please accept these as a token of my esteem.
There are many good things in life, besides marriage.
Fondest wishes,
Jake
Stunned, Alexandra sat numbly on her cot, staring at the teardrop earrings. Her refusal of Clifton was producing the opposite effect to what she had hoped. Instead of keeping him at bay, it created a challenge, causing him to pursue her, evidently without compunction.
Abbey stirred, prompting Alexandra to replace the lid. The marquess could give her many things, anything money could buy, but she wanted only one, and that was to know what had happened to Nathaniel.
Rising, she decided to return Lord Clifton’s gift immediately. She didn’t want her fellow maids to learn of his interest, nor did she want him to think a pair of earrings could change her mind.
She quickly descended the back stairs and used the servants’ door to enter the second floor. The marquess’s bedroom was just down the hall. If he was at home and the door was closed, she’d leave the small box on the ground, where he’d nearly step on it come morning. If he happened to be away, she’d put the earrings on his bed so he couldn’t miss them when he returned.
Before she’d gone halfway down the hall, however, she heard voices coming from the library. Someone was still up. Who? The duke? Lord Clifton? Lady Anne?
Alexandra paused to listen.
“Why would you buy such a costly gift for a maid?”
Recognizing Lady Anne’s voice, Alexandra crept closer.
“She probably would have been just as happy with a shawl or other trinket. She’s lucky a man of your status has decided to take an interest in her.”
“Not this maid. Alexandra is different.”
The marquess’s sister laughed. “Are you sure Nathaniel didn’t do something to that head of yours as well as your hand? I just took your bishop.”
Alexandra heard the clink of crystal.
“Pour me one, too,” Clifton said.
There was a moment of silence, and Alexandra pictured the two of them puzzling over a chessboard.
“Nathaniel’s getting his just due for what he’s done to me,” the marquess said.
“Holding Father at knifepoint is scarcely getting one’s just due.”
“That wasn’t Nathaniel. It was one of his men. Nathaniel is languishing in prison. He’ll never get out.”
“He’s at Newgate?”
Alexandra could barely hear the surprise in Lady Anne’s voice above the beating of her own heart.
Nathaniel is alive,
it thumped.
Nathaniel is alive!
She closed her eyes in relief and strained to hear Clifton’s next words.
“No, he’s in the hulks at Woolwich. Not a pleasant place, I assure you. It’s your move.”
In the hulks? Alexandra’s eyes flew open. That place was a living hell. Did Trenton already know? Was that why she hadn’t heard from him?
Or had Greystone captured Trenton as well? Her heart raced at this last thought. She didn’t want to be alone in her efforts to help them both.
“Do you ever wonder if Nathaniel is telling the truth?” Lady Anne surprised Alexandra with the sudden sincerity in her voice. “I mean, if he is our older brother, then he has been sorely wronged.”
“I am the one who has been sorely wronged. Nathaniel’s nothing but a liar and a thief,” the marquess retorted. “Besides, Father has chosen between us. Otherwise, Nathaniel would inherit everything, and you and I would find ourselves dependent upon that scoundrel’s charity. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not. I was just—”
“Don’t.”
“But I was only asking.”
“It doesn’t matter. Some things are better left alone.”
Alexandra didn’t hear Lady Anne’s response. The sound of footsteps came from the hall below, and she fled, seized by a mixture of emotions. Relief that Nathaniel was alive surged through her, along with a certain satisfaction in knowing, at long last, his situation. But the hulks… She covered her mouth, remembering the bits and pieces she had heard about the prison barges.
At least he was in London—and still alive. Her mind returned to that one small ray of hope as she made her way to the attic. Only when she reached her bed did she realize that she’d forgotten to return Lord Clifton’s earrings.
* * *
Alexandra received word from Trenton the following day, but his message said that Nathaniel was in gaol at Liverpool. Confused, she wondered how that could be. If Nathaniel was in Liverpool, why had Lord Clifton said he was imprisoned at Woolwich?
Biting her lip in consternation, Alexandra considered sending Trenton another message. She had to let him know what she had learned, but she hesitated to trust the milkman with yet another letter. He delivered their correspondence only while traveling his normal route, so it would be delayed another day. She was certain Trenton would be on his way to Liverpool by then.
Instead, she approached Mrs. Wright in the kitchen, arranging her face into a worried frown. “Mrs. Wright?”
The busy housekeeper looked up. She was going over something with Cook, but Alexandra’s tone succeeded in gaining her attention.
“I’m afraid I’ve had some bad news.” Alexandra clutched Trenton’s letter to her breast. “It’s my mother.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s very ill. My sister says she’s on her last breath. I was wondering if I might have the afternoon off to visit her—just this once.”
“Oh dear, child. I didn’t know you had family close by. Of course we can manage here. Do you need some money for a cab?”
Alexandra squirmed at having to lie. “No. I’ll walk or beg a ride with someone who’s going that way.”
Cook, who stood next to Mrs. Wright, clucked her tongue in sympathy. “I hope your maman pulls through, mademoiselle.”
“I’ll use this as my afternoon off and won’t take another,” Alexandra offered, to appease her own conscience.
“Don’t worry about that now.” Mrs. Wright waved her away. “You’d best hurry along.”