"Hush." He yanked his hand out from beneath her skirts and covered her mouth with his palm. "Something is wrong."
It was happening all over again, just as it had so many times in the course of her marriage. She could have wept with rage and disappointment.
Then she realized that the carriage was slowing. Perhaps Leo had ended the embrace so abruptly because they had reached her town house.
She struggled to sit up and adjust her clothing. "Have we arrived already?"
"We have arrived somewhere." Leo pushed her off his lap with scant ceremony. "But not at your address."
"What on earth?" Confused, Beatrice glanced out the
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window. The fog swirled in the street, but she was able to make out the vague outlines of nearby buildings. They were much too close, she realized. This street was much narrower than the one on which she lived. And there was no sign of the new gaslights that had recently been installed in her neighborhood.
A deep chill swept over her. "Where are we?"
Leo did not answer. He was on his feet, shoving open the trapdoor in the roof of the carriage.
"What the devil are you about up there?" he said to the coachman huddled on the box. "This is not the right street." "Sorry, m'lord." The man's reply was muffled by a heavy
scarf. "Got lost in the fog. Could'appen to anyone on a night like this. Don't ye worry none. We'll get ye home safe and sound."
"Turn this coach around at once."
"Can't do that, m'lord,' the man whined. "Not enough room. But I'll swing about at the top of the lane, I promise ye."
"See that you do so." Leo sounded annoyed but not alarmed.
Beatrice raised her brows as he allowed the trapdoor to slam back into place. He dropped down onto the seat beside her and held up a finger to ensure her silence. Then he leaned very close so that his mouth was almost against her ear.
"Do exactly as I say. Do not ask any questions. Do you comprehend me?"
She opened her mouth, closed it quickly, and nodded. He squeezed her gloved hand briefly. "I am going to open the carriage door and leap out. You must follow immediately, before the coachman realizes what is happening." "Leo-"
"You must not hesitate. I will catch you."
A hundred questions pounded through Beatrice's brain. There would be time enough to ask them later, she
A m a n d a Q u i c k
told herself. She gathered her skirts, raising them to her knees so that they would not hinder her.
Leo reached out to unlatch the door.
After that, everything happened so swiftly that Beatrice did not have time to think. Leo was through the door before she could blink. She took a deep breath and scrambled madly after him.
In spite of her preparations, her cloak snagged on the door handle. She lost her balance. Instead of leaping nimbly to the pavement, she tumbled awkwardly out of the moving vehicle. The hard paving stones loomed beneath her. She flung out her hand in an attempt to break her fall.
Leo, loping alongside the coach, reached out and caught her before she struck the ground.
He set her on her feet, grabbed her hand before she could regain her balance, and pulled her into a dead run down the dark, fog-shrouded lane.
She stumbled wildly after him.
A shout went up from the coachman. "Damn and blast. They're away."
A shot rang out. Beatrice heard it thud into a nearby wall.
"Don't kill 'em, ye bloody fool," the coachman yelled. "They're no good to us dead."
Beatrice struggled for breath as Leo jerked her around a corner and plunged down another densely shadowed passage. "What happened? Footpads?"
"If I am not mistaken, someone just tried to kidnap us," Leo said.
OX aP le r
and fled straight into the very heart of an unknown fate.
FROM CHAPTER TEN OF The Ruin BY MRS. AMELIA YORK
eo got his bearings at last when he turned the third corner and found himself in a crooked street overhung with small shops. He allowed Beatrice to slow to a walk. She was breathing quickly but she had not slackened her pace during the mad flight. He supposed he ought not to be Surprised. He had known from the outset that she was not the delicate type.
There was enough moonlight to give the fog an unnatural luminescence. The mist glowed strangely, but it was impossible to see more than a few paces ahead.
it was nearly midnight. The narrow street was almost too quiet. It was as if the vapors had muffled the normal noises of the evening. Up ahead, a yellow glow spilled from the windows of a tavern.
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"Are you all right?" Leo asked.
"I think so." Beatrice shook out her cloak. "Did you mean what you said back there? Was someone actually attempting to kidnap us?"
"I'm almost certain of it. The entire affair was far too well staged to be the work of ordinary footpads. That was not the same coachman who drove us to the theater."
"Why would they want to grab all of us, including Aunt Winifred and Arabella?"
"I doubt that they wanted your relatives. They must have been watching when we came out of the theater. When they saw us put your aunt and cousin into the Hazelthorpe coach, they no doubt decided to take advantage of the opportunity to grab us."
"But why would anyone want to carry us off?"
Leo glanced at her. There was no hysteria in her voice, he noted. An astonishing female. He pulled her closer against his side. "I cannot be certain, but we have to consider the possibility that this piece of mischief is connected to our investigation."
"I was afraid you were going to say that." She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head. "How unfortunate that I did not think to put my pistol into my reticule before I left home this evening. From now on, I will not leave it behind.'
His mouth quirked. "Do not be too hard on yourself, Beatrice. A pistol is not a normal accessory for a lady who plans to attend the theater." He reached into the pocket of his greatcoat and withdrew the small weapon he had put there earlier. "L on the other hand, feel somewhat undressed without one.-
She glanced at the pistol. "I admire your forethought." " 'Twas habit, not forethought."
"Too many nights spent pursuing your hobby of hunting highwaymen, I imagine."
"I would just as soon not have to use it tonight. I suspect both the coachman and his companion are armed."
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"Not the best odds." A small shudder went through Beatrice. "Have you any notion of where we are?' "Cunning Lane."
She studied the darkened shops. "I have never been in this neighborhood."
"I have. Yesterday I came here to speak with a man named Sibson. He owns an antiquities shop in this street. I find it most interesting that our kidnappers were heading toward this part of town.'
"Does Mr. Sibson live above his shop? Perhaps we could call upon him for assistance."
"Not a sound notion under the circumstances."
She turned her head quickly. "Do you suspect him of being involved in the kidnapping?"
"At the moment, I do not know what to think. I prefer to take as few risks as possible." He glanced back over his shoulder. "We require a carriage and we are highly unlikely to find one in this street at this hour. We must make our own way out of this neighborhood."
"Actually, I am not particularly keen on the notion of climbing into another hired carriage,' Beatrice admitted. Before he could respond, Leo caught the echo of a man's voice in the distance. "Bloody hell."
"'Is someone following us?"
"'Perhaps." Leo came to a halt and drew her into a heavily shadowed doorway. "Not a sound."
Leo tried the door. It was securely bolted from the inside. Forcing the lock would make too much noise. There was nothing to do but wedge Beatrice as deeply as possible into the dark corner. He pushed her up hard against the stone and positioned himself in front of her.
Facing the street, he gripped the weapon in his right hand and waited. Pistols were notoriously inaccurate, even at close range. If he was obliged to shoot, he had to make certain of his target. There would be no opportunity to reload.
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The oddly glowing fog swirled in Cunning Lane, forming a supernatural river of mist. Boot steps echoed again, closer now. Leo felt Beatrice stiffen against him, but she did not make a sound.
The fog shifted slightly to reveal the outline of a man in a coachman's coat and hat. He was no more than three paces away from the doorway where Leo and Beatrice waited.
'Where the bloody 'ell are they?" the coachman snapped.
"Yer the one what lost 'em, ye stupid bugger," the second man hissed. "We won't get paid if we don't deliver 'em by dawn."
" 'Ow was I tknow they'd leap out o' the coach like a couple of foxes fleeing the pack? The fancy generally don't move that fast."
"This pair did. And now they've disappeared."
"Can't figure out what made 'em take off the way they did," the coachman said. "Thought'is lordship was too busy gettin' under the lady's skirts t'notice that we wasn't in the right part otown."
"Well, they're gone and we've got to find 'em soon or we'll be out the blunt ye promised."
"We'll find 'em. 'Is lordship won't get far draggin' the lady behind him. She'll likely be fainting and havin'hysterical fits by now."
"How are we goin'to findem in this damned fog?"
"I know this part o' town. Most o' these little lanes and alleys end in brick walls. Anyone who doesn't know his way around will soon get trapped."
"We can't watch the entrance to every damned alley by ourselves," the second man pointed out unhappily.
"I got some friends'ere," the coachman said. "They'll be in the Drunken Cat on a night like this. For a cut o'the purse, they'll 'elp us find 'is lordship."
There was a short silence as the two men moved off in the fog. And then the second man spoke once more.
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"Jack?" WAye?" "Ye don't really think it's true what they said about that
particular gentry cove, d'ye? He can't really turn 'imself into a wolf, can he?"
"Of course not. Try not to be any more of a bloody ass than ye already are."
A few minutes later a burst of noise down the street told Leo that the men had opened the door of the tavern. When the sound faded again, he tugged Beatrice out of the doorway.
He felt her questioning glance, but she kept silent as he guided her through the moonlit vapor. When they passed beneath the sign that marked Sibson's antiquities shop, he stopped.
"What now?" Beatrice whispered in his ear.
"Now we hope that we, too, have a friend in this part of town."
"I thought you said we could not trust Mr. Sibson." "I have someone else in mind."
With Beatrice's hand clamped firmly in his own, Leo started across the tiny street. A figure shifted in the shadows of a doorway. The dim flare of a small lantern lit the folds of a much-patched cloak.
"Someone is there," Beatrice said urgently.
"I rather hoped there would be." Leo continued walking toward the doorway. "Clarinda? Is that you?"
"'Well, well, well." Clarinda, heavily bundled up against the fog, stepped out of the shadows. She held the lantern aloft. "Good evenin' to ye, yer lordship. Who's the fancy lady?"'
"Her name is Mrs. Poole. A couple of footpads tried to rob us a few minutes ago. They are still looking for us. My friend and I need a place to stay until they abandon the search in this street. I will pay you well for the use of your room upstairs."
Clarinda looked Beatrice up and down. "Your friend is accustomed to fancy trade by the looks of her. Ain't she got a nice room of her own to take ye to, ni'lord?"
"My lodgings are in another part of town," Beatrice said before Leo could come up with a suitable response.
"See 'ere, this is my street. I've been working it for nearly three years," Clarinda said. "If yer thinkin' of movin' into this neighborhood, ye can think again. The tavern trade is mine."
"I beg your pardon?" Beatrice said blankly.
Leo decided it was time to correct Clarinda's impression that Beatrice was a prostitute. "I told you, Mrs. Poole and I are friends. She is not in your line of work and I am not her client."
"Oh, well, in that case.' Clarinda's voice lightened with I
relief. "Ye can help yerse
.!Ives to my room if ye like. I don't have much use for it tonight. Business has been off this evening. I was about to take meself down the street to the tavern for a meat pie and a mug of ale and a chat with Tom before goin'to bed."
"The footpads who are looking for us are in the tavern now." Leo dug a number of banknotes out of his pocket and put them in Clarinda's hand. "They are seeking friends to assist them in their search. In addition to our other arrangement, I shall pay you extra for anything useful you happen to learn while you are eating your pie."
"Done." Clarinda's fingers closed fiercely around the banknotes. "I'll come back and tell ye when it's safe to leave me room."
Leo took the lantern from her. "Knock three times so that we will know it is you.,,
"I understand, ni'lord. Three times." Clarinda made the banknotes disappear into the bodice of her old dress. -Off ye go, then. Second door on the right at the top of the stairs. Stay as long as ye like.-
"'fhank you, Clarinda." Leo tightened his grip on Be
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atrice's arm and started up the stairs. He paused at the first step. "By the bye, concerning our earlier agreement. Have you noticed any new patrons going into Sibson's shop?"
"No, ni'lord." Clarinda shrugged. "Just some of his old ones and his friend Dr. Cox, of course."
Leo felt Beatrice start at the name. He squeezed her hand to silence her.
"Dr. Cox is a friend of Sibson's?" he asked carefully. "Been treating Sibson for years now with his Elixir of Manly Vigor." Clarinda snorted in disgust. "Between you and me, sir, the stuff ain't doin' Sibson much good. He still doesn't pay me any visits. But then, he never did. Always thought it was because he was too clutch-fisted."