The Secret Life of Lady Lucinda (28 page)

Trenton turned to Ryan. “I take it her father was busy harvesting knowledge. Perhaps he worked with some of the physicians, and they would be able to help us. Do you recall any names? Did she happen to mention a location…the name of a hospital, perhaps?”

“No, her descriptions were not so detailed, and besides, she was here a long time ago—five years or more, I believe.” He stopped to think, and William knew that he was wracking his brain for any small piece of information that might be of use to them.

Impatient to find Lucy, he began walking again. He knew it was probably a wasted effort since he’d no idea where he was heading, but at least he felt as though he was doing
something
. They needed a translator of some sort—someone who knew the town in and out and could both interpret the language and help them deal with the culture because even if they did happen to find Lucy standing on an auction block, they’d have no idea of how to partake in the bidding. In all likelihood, they would just end up getting their heads lopped off as soon as they tried to steal her away.

“I’ve thought of something, and though it may be a long shot, there is a man who would be capable of helping us.” It was Ryan who spoke as he came up alongside William.

William halted in his tracks, almost colliding with Trenton who was right behind him. “Who is it?” He asked, his eyes locking with his brother’s in a hard stare.

Ryan leaned close to William’s ear. “The sultan,” he whispered.

“Are you mad?” William gasped, drawing both Ryan and Trenton to the side and out of the path of those trying to get past them. “We can’t just walk up to the sultan and ask for an audience.”

“Why not?” Trenton asked, his expression quite serious.

“Because the way I see it, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if
he’s
the very man behind all of this. Think of it: if we’re correct in our assumption that Stanton has returned here with the intention of selling Lucy, then he must be expecting to receive a huge amount of money. The fact that he was still searching for her after six years indicates that he had a lot to gain from finding her, and if that’s the case, then a man like the sultan would certainly have the funds to compensate him for his troubles, not to mention that the murder of Lord and Lady Hampstead might have been political.”

Trenton shrugged. “I suppose so. But if that is the case, then we’ve even more reason to seek him out.” He turned to Ryan. “Were Mary and her father well acquainted with the sultan?”

Ryan nodded. “Mary speaks highly of him. From what I understand, she and her father resided in the palace for a lengthy period of time as his guests. Naturally, Mary would have been little more than a child back then, but she says that her father and the sultan spent much time in each other’s company and that he considered him a friend.”

William sighed in response to the look that came over Trenton’s face as Ryan spoke. It wouldn’t be so bad having the sultan on their side, but it could be detrimental if he turned out to be their enemy. He was their fastest chance for success though, and as it was, William dared not consider what Lucy might be facing with each passing moment that he spent looking for her. He had to find her fast. “Very well,” he said, as he began to rise to the familiar thrill of adventure. “Let’s pay a visit to the palace.”

As it turned out, their plan was by no means as expeditious as William would have hoped. For some absurd reason, he hadn’t imagined having to wait for more than an hour to meet with His Majesty, but it had already been three hours since their arrival and William had long since lost his patience. “We should leave,” he said as he got up for the hundredth time and paced across the mosaic tiled floor. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“We’ll be no better off roaming aimlessly about the city in search of one woman when we don’t even speak the local language,” Ryan said with an edge of exasperation. “We need help, and as far as I can tell, this is our best chance.”

“We can stop more people on the street,” William insisted. “Surely we must be able to find somebody who speaks French, Latin, or English. We could try the harbor for instance; sailors often speak a variety of different languages.”

“That may not be such a bad idea,” Trenton muttered. He pulled out his pocket watch and studied it. “Let’s give it another fifteen minutes. If nobody shows up, we’ll make our excuses and leave.”

William drew a deep breath to calm himself. The thought of Lucy in the company of Stanton alone was enough to make his stomach roil. What on earth would happen to her if he sold her off to some wealthy pasha? She’d become a concubine in his harem, would have to…He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut to force away the disturbing images that swept through his mind. No, he would find her first. He simply
had
to, not only to ensure her safety but, blast it all, to tell her that he loved her too. If he’d learned anything at all over the course of the past six weeks, it was that his life would be empty and meaningless without her in it.

A door opened and a short, slim man with a hooked nose entered. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue şalvar and a matching cropped vest, edged with gold thread. Upon his head, he wore a turban of sorts—its style not entirely dissimilar to some of the ones being paraded about by London women, though William had never approved of the fashion himself.

“Bu şekilde.”
The servant gestured toward the door, indicating that they should follow.

With a glance in both Ryan’s and Trenton’s directions, William strode after the little fellow, knowing that they would be right behind him. They’d been searched for weapons upon their arrival and had been told that their daggers and pistols would be returned to them as soon as they left again, but William did not enjoy the feeling of venturing into unfamiliar territory without any means of protection. As a result, his eyes took in every little detail as they passed, observing all possible escape routes and the location of all the guards. It was an exercise that couldn’t be helped even if he’d tried, for it had become second nature to him now—a result of many years of service to his king and country.

Bird song reached his ears, and a moment later, he stepped out into the sunlight and followed the servant across an open courtyard shaded by orange trees, their crowns densely filled with ripe and heavy fruit. Entering a colonnaded walkway paved with marble, they continued onward until they arrived at a tall, open doorway, arched at the top and surrounded by an elaborate mosaic.

Drawing a tight breath, William glanced back for good measure, ensuring that Ryan and Trenton were still with him. He then entered behind the servant and found himself in a vast hall with gilded ceilings that seemed to arch at precarious angles. The walls were covered with elaborately painted tiles that shimmered and gleamed with intricate floral designs. The floors were flooded with plush silk carpets overlapping one another in a rich frenzy of pattern. The furniture was sparse, save for four divans facing one another to form a square with a table in the middle, each one beckoning with a bounty of cushions that scarcely allowed for a place to sit.

William’s gaze shifted to the man already spread out upon one of the divans. He seemed to be of average height, though it was difficult to tell since he did not stand up. His dark brown eyes were set on either side of a long, slim nose, his mouth almost entirely concealed by a thick, black beard. His clothes were similar in style to what they’d seen other men wear but appeared to have been made from expensive silks, the edges trimmed with gold thread embroidery. A young girl with a multitude of bracelets about her slim wrists was seated at his feet, her back perfectly straight and her chin held high as she delicately balanced his glass of wine in her hand.

Stepping forward, the servant they’d been following began calling out a long string of words that William took to be an elaborate salutation of some sort. He then fell to his knees before the sultan’s feet and spoke in a low tone. The sultan said something that William once again did not understand.

As the servant rose and bowed back down again, William, Ryan, and Trenton all took their cue and swiftly performed a series of sweeping bows before the regent. They straightened and waited for the sultan to wave them forward, which he did without too much preamble, much to William’s relief.

“Please be seated,” he spoke in French, surprising William with a perfect accent as he gestured toward the other divans. He then reached for his glass and ordered the slave girl to fetch some more wine for his guests. Directing his attention toward the servant who was still present, he issued what William presumed to be a series of orders, to which the servant performed a low bow before backing out of the room on shuffling feet and vanishing altogether.

William took the glass of wine offered to him and leaned back against the cushions in a hopeless attempt to find a comfortable position. British fashion was clearly far too restrictive to allow for such a thing, so he eventually sat back up, discreetly eyeing his brother and Trenton before turning his full attention on the sultan.

“As you will no doubt understand,” the sultan began, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin upon them as he stared at each of his guests in turn, “I’ve been rather busy today with some political issues. It is unfortunate that such matters must come in the way of life’s greater pleasures, but such is the case. Thus, the reason for the delay—you will accept my apologies, of course.”

William hesitated only a moment before inclining his head and saying, “Naturally, Your Majesty.”

The sultan nodded his approval and lowered his hands to his lap. “Then let us proceed with business. I understand that there is a matter you wish to discuss with me. I assume it is of great importance and that you are not wasting my time?”

“We have come to seek your assistance,” Trenton told him as he took a sip of his wine. “There is a woman…”

The sultan chuckled and then plucked a grape from the fruit bowl on the table and popped it into his mouth. “There is always a woman. Is that not so?”

A jingling of tiny bells filled the air, and William instinctively turned to watch as a group of women enter, all dressed in flowing veils and translucent fabrics that left little to be imagined. His breath caught at the unexpected display, and his eyes widened as they all started singing and dancing, their bodies writhing like elegant serpents as they moved their hips and bellies most seductively. They really were a long way from England, William realized. Intent on ignoring the visual distraction, he turned his back on the lot of them. “This one is special,” he told the sultan pointedly, “for she is my wife, and she has been kidnapped. I wish to get her back.” He opened his mouth to add more, but the sultan cut him off.

“She is here in Constantinople?” he asked. William nodded. “You are certain of this?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” William replied, his stomach a tight knot of nerves.

He watched as the eased back against his divan. “And you wish for me to help you find her. What makes you think I won’t just toss you back out into the street? If you’ve traveled all of this way to find your wife, then she must be quite exquisite, indeed. Perhaps
I
should find her and install her in my harem.”

A growl of rage left William’s lips, and he instantly rose, intent on strangling the arrogant bastard with his own bare hands.

It was enough that he had Stanton to contend with; he didn’t need this as well. But he hadn’t made it more than half way out of his seat before a gleaming blade touched his abdomen, and he froze. He lifted his gaze, only to be met with a fearsome expression coming from a bald guard with a broad chest. Glancing sideways, he saw two other guards with their hands ready on the hilts of their yatagans. He didn’t stand a chance if he decided to take them on and chose instead to settle back down again.

Once more, the sultan chuckled. “As you can see, I am thoroughly protected.” He sipped his wine with an annoying slowness.

Ryan cleared his throat as if readying himself to speak. He took a cautious look at William and then turned away to face the sultan. “Your Majesty, coming here today was my suggestion. In fact, I believe you are acquainted with my wife and her late father.” William tried to gauge the sultan’s reaction, but he merely appeared bored if anything. The situation did not look promising at all. “Indeed, my wife speaks quite highly of you. Her name is Mary, and her father was John Croyden, a rather exceptional—”

“By all that is holy, why didn’t you just say so from the start,” the sultan exclaimed, tossing back his wine and waving for one of the servant girls to refill his glass. “John was a good friend, and as I believe you were about to say, an exceptional surgeon. His daughter was remarkable too, both smart and determined and at such a young age. I trust they are well?”

“Mary is quite well, but my father-in-law unfortunately died before I had the opportunity to make his acquaintance.”

A shadow flickered across the sultan’s face. “I am so sorry to hear it.”

“We were hoping that, in light of our relationship with Mary, that you would be kind enough to consider helping us find Lady Summersby, my brother’s wife.” Ryan gestured toward William with a bit of a sympathetic expression.

“Yes, yes of course,” the sultan waved his hand, dismissing Ryan’s words as if they were completely inconsequential. “But first things first, you must call me Mahmud, for we are friends now, yes?”

Trenton was the first to reply. “We are, indeed,” he said with a smile as he then began to indicate each of them in turn, “and we are Michael, Ryan, and William.” He gave William a look of warning.