She was paralyzed, unsure of her next step. She hadn’t got any further in her mind than to warn him, assuming he’d take over. Where was he? He wasn’t a prisoner yet, but how could she warn him when she didn’t know where he was.

  Should she awaken Mr. Jordy? He might know of Mr. Thompson’s whereabouts. Except did Mr. Jordy know about Mr. Thompson’s secret plans to travel to France? The privacy of his trip didn’t matter if Mr. Thompson was in danger, did it?

  Making her decision on a course of action, she rushed to her room to cover her nightdress.

  She slipped into her half-boots that didn’t need lacing and then donned Esme’s dark cloak, which tied at the neck. Within seconds, she was racing down the stairs to find Mr. Jordy, Fredrick, or Mr. Tanner.

  Her father’s retainers weren’t comfortable that she was among strangers and took turns at night staying in the lobby. They already were fearful of the expectations of her father’s harsh reprimands from their forced stay at an inn and didn’t want any other reason to incite her father’s temper.

  Joie rushed across the empty lobby to Fredrick, who was awake and standing by the door. She was glad that it was Fredrick. Mr. Tanner, who had served her father for years, wouldn’t be as easy to persuade as the youthful Fredrick was.

  “Miss, what’s wrong?”

  “Is Mr. Jordy awake?”

  “I’ve not seen him in hours. He often goes to the tavern at the end of the road after the guests are settled.”

  “Then we’re on our own. We must follow the couple who just left. Which way did they go?” She opened the door to scan the street.

  Fredrick followed her outside and pointed. “There they go, toward the water. They were in quite a rush. Woke me up from my nap when I heard them on the stairs. I think I surprised them.”

  She had lost precious minutes in getting dressed. She could make out the figures far ahead, moving down the hill toward the water. Their voices reverberated in the silence.

  “Come, we must go.” Joie dashed forward into the dark street.

  “Miss, you can’t be going out in the middle of the night. According to Mr. Jordy, Rye gets dangerous at nighttime with all the smuggling activity. It’s why Mr. Tanner and I take turns in the lobby.”

  “I’m going with, or without, you. Mr. Thompson’s life is at stake. We must hurry.” She sounded confident, but she was counting on Fredrick’s loyalty to accompany her.

  She didn’t slow her pace despite the slippery bricks still wet from the earlier rain.

  Fredrick caught up to her, his head swiveling to search their surroundings.

  “Why are we chasing after the Frenchies?”

  Relieved not to be venturing alone, she whispered into the eerie silence. “I overheard them outside my room, planning to kidnap Mr. Thompson and take him to France. I went to Mr. Thompson’s room to warn him, but it was empty. Did you see him leave?”

  “I didn’t, but there is a back door that empties into the alley. There are also the tunnels, so he could’ve taken either.”

  Nothing made sense—Mr. Thompson was missing, but Paulette was confident that they would have him in their power. Uneasiness slivered along her spine. They wouldn’t be setting up a trap if Paulette didn’t know his whereabouts.

  “Where would he go in the middle of the night?”

  “Ladies shouldn’t ask questions about men’s nighttime activities.”

  A giggle escaped before she could stop it from bubbling out—a sign of her frazzled nerves. After dealing with her and Paulette this evening, Joie greatly doubted that Mr. Thompson sought the company of another woman.

  “Why can’t you wait and tell Mr. Thompson when he returns? It seems like the reasonable thing to do instead of prowling around at night. If your father hears of this . . . “

  Joie grabbed Fredrick’s arm and gestured with her finger to her lips to lower his voice. Voices carried in the night.

  “What are you planning to do once we catch up with them?” Fredrick asked in a quiet voice. “The man looked mean, and I’m not sure I can overpower him.”

  “Thank you for your willingness to protect me, but we aren’t going to make contact. We’ll follow them to their destination and then return to the inn and tell Mr. Thompson, who hopefully will be back in his room, where they are hiding.”

  She couldn’t accept that Mr. Thompson wouldn’t return to the inn since she had no further ideas if he didn’t.

  “And then it will be his business to decide what’s to be done.” Joie didn’t plan to divulge anything further to Fredrick about Mr. Thompson’s government business. The less Fredrick knew, the better for his well-being.

  “If anything happens, your father will have me whipped.”

  Her father was an intimidating man, but he never would harm anyone.

  “My father has never whipped anyone. Where did you ever hear such gossip?”

  “Bitsy, the parlor maid, told me.”

  The candlelight in a few windows had lit their way in the damp, dark night but, as they left the less populated area, there were no candles and only the night sky for light.

  “First, nothing is going to happen tonight.” She shivered in apprehension despite her reassurance. “And second, I will make sure that my father knows that you tried to convince me to remain at the inn.” She didn’t care about her father’s reaction or his dire punishment when Mr. Thompson’s life was in jeopardy.

  As the dampness and eerie silence enveloped them, she and Fredrick stopped conversing. The little hairs on her neck and her arms bristled in heightened awareness as they neared the waterfront with the sound of the waves crashing on rocks and the smell of salt water.

  Joie squinted, wiping away the ocean mist. Paulette and the man, dark shadows in the fog, turned left into an alley off the main road. Did they know that she and Fredrick were in close pursuit? Was this a ploy to draw them into the alley? Neither Paulette nor the man had turned to look at them since they left the inn. Joie had maintained her focus on the couple the entire time.

  Joie halted at the alley entrance, unsure how best to remain undetected in the narrow space where every sound would be amplified. Her heart ratcheting in uneven beats, she took one step forward and peered down the alley. Phantoms danced in the mist, but no one moved. The stillness was deafening against the thunderous beat of her pulse. Her mouth had gone dry, and her knees felt like they were about to buckle.

  She walked slowly, with Fredrick following into the alley. Wooden huts lined both sides with a narrow path leading off to the right. The smell of rotting fish filled her nostrils. And the sound of the rats scurrying between the piles of garbage sent shivers down her spine.

  Her senses were amplified—every noise too loud; every step she took grated like a rasp on metal; putrid smells bombarded her. Her heartbeat slammed against her chest in painful thumps.

  Paulette’s laughter startled Joie, causing her to stumble backward. Two big and broad men stood behind Paulette.

  “Take them, gentlemen,” Paulette commanded.

  Joie swung around to the sound of footsteps. Three men blocked the entrance to the alley. Their faces not clearly visible in the darkness but their bulky size evident.

  Terror shot through Joie. She searched for a way to escape, but now she and Fredrick were surrounded by the giants.

  Fredrick stepped next to her. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

  With the loud howls of laughter, a chill of foreboding set in. Her body started to shake as her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

  “Ain’t he a brave one? A half-wit, are ya?” A man with a neck the size of an oak tree swung and punched Fredrick flush in the face. Fredrick fell backward, his head making a soft thud on the dirt road.

  Joie rushed toward Fredrick, who lay motionless. She dropped to her knees to help the footman when she was pulled upright by the man with hands the size of hams and the odor of a pigpen. She recoiled at his touch and tried to pull her arm away. Again, came the awful laughter.

  “Enough.” Paulette’s order cut through the men’s amusement. “Pick up the boy and take him into the tunnel.”

  “Please, he’s done nothing. Don’t harm him.” Her pleas were wasted as the man with the knitted cap pulled Fredrick up and swung him over his shoulder with no regard for Fredrick’s injury.

  “Listen, Miss James, no harm will come to you or the boy,” Paulette calmly explained.

  The sight of an unconscious Fredrick in the hands of ruffians gave no reassurance.

  “You are the means to the end.”

  Joie couldn’t stop her body shaking or the way her teeth clattered to appear as a worthy opponent to the confident woman before her. “Then, why detain us? We are of no importance to you.”

  Paulette’s titillating laugh abraded Joie’s hypersensitive nerves. “You underestimate your value. Mr. Thompson will search for you when your maid realizes that you’re missing. He won’t stop until he finds you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Joie’s mind buzzed with the implications. “You’ve planned all of this . . . For me to follow you to entrap Mr. Thompson?”

  “It was a rather rushed business. I just learned that your Mr. Thompson is much more valuable to me than I first realized. I will be celebrated for acquiring the very informative man.”

  Joie had been a fool, never questioning the conversation conveniently taking place outside her room. But how could Paulette know that Joie would hear—oh, because Paulette had overheard Mr. Thompson shouting at Joie. Blaming herself, she was ashamed. She had been a blooming idiot who now endangered Fredrick and Mr. Thompson. She could fall apart later but now she had to find a way to escape.

  “You are to be admired for your machinations, but what if Mr. Thompson doesn’t find us?” Joie didn’t doubt that Mr. Thompson would find them but at what cost.

  “He will. I’ve left a note for him to come alone to find you. We will meet just outside the end of this tunnel. And once we have Mr. Thompson, you’ll be released.”

  “Why is it such a coup for you to capture Mr. Thompson? What possible information does a mere English gentleman possess that will make you celebrated in Paris?”

  Like their country neighbor, Lady Edmonstone, Paulette thrived on recognition and acknowledgment of her superiority.

  “Mr. Thompson is privy to information about the household of a high-ranking noble. Not that it had anything to do with you. Hasn’t your inquisitive nature gotten you into enough trouble?”

  Joie could only think of more questions to put to the woman. “He’ll never give you the information.”

  “He will . . . eventually.” Paulette’s lips arched into a knowing smirk.

  Joie had never felt the urge to physically hurt anyone until this moment. She wanted to pummel that smirk right off Paulette’s face, knowing the woman planned to torment Mr. Thompson. The only thing stopping Joie was the rough hand on her arm.

  Paulette tittered at the violent look Joie hurled at the despicable woman.

  “Bring her along.” Paulette nodded to her brute, and the man dragged Joie into the tunnel following Paulette, who moved regally with no indication that she had viciously attacked an innocent man, abducted two people, and planned to torture a third.

  Chapter Eight

  “Bloody hell.”

  Reggie swore aloud after his right foot landed in a huge puddle. There was no one else out that he could see in the fog to hear him. He had spent three hours in the tavern, watching men drink themselves into stupors, waiting for his contact. Either Reggie had been sent on a fool’s errand, or there was foul play behind his summons.

  He had loads of curses stored up from his military life, and he was ready to blast the night sky with each and every one. His mission had descended into total chaos from an already mess of bloody proportions.

  After losing total control with Joie, which he had never done before in his entire life, he returned to find his portmanteau open, the signal to rendezvous with his contact. He had trekked in the bitter dampness down to the waterfront tavern, only to have his contact not appear.

  Reggie would have to leave a message for the contact in the prearranged spot, under the rock in the wall by the town square and wait for a response. He didn’t want to sound the alarm until he was convinced his contact had been compromised. There could be circumstances that prohibited his arrival at the tavern. Reggie hadn’t wanted to ask a lot of questions in the room and raise suspicion.

  Now that the roads were passable, he could send a message to Ashworth for what action to take for his missing contact. The man, whose name was unknown to Reggie, was to arrange passage to France for himself and Paulette. Reggie didn’t want to be trapped with Paulette in the inn any longer than he had to.

  Reggie didn’t have a backup contact or a plan for their passage to France. His assignment had been rushed with little preparation. But, as Ashworth explained, nothing was planned or predictable in war.

  All Reggie wanted now was to get sleep. Well, not everything he wanted, when he thought about Joie, sleeping in a thin nightdress, close to his room. Shame washed through him by how cruel he had been, but Joie was too curious and too trusting. And the possibility that she would put herself in danger had driven him close to an apoplectic fit. He didn’t want to consider that he possibly had more of his father’s temperament than he wished. Or that he behaved as badly as Lord Rathbourne and the other men when they perceived their wives put themselves in harm’s way.

  He was bloody tired and knew everything would look fresh and achievable after a few hours of sleep. Lack of sleep was the reason he was feeling so maudlin.

  Surprised that Fredrick wasn’t stationed at the door of the inn, he wondered what had happened.

  “Mr. Thompson.” Esme rushed toward him with Jordy close behind, her wrapper flapping around her shoulders, speaking rapidly, almost undecipherable.

  “She’s gone. Something has happened to her. That awful woman did this.”

  Jordy patted her arm. “Now, now. Mr. Thompson will find her.”

  “Please, Monsieur, you must . . . “ The woman pressed her handkerchief to her mouth.

  Panic fired through Reggie, jolting him wide-awake. His heart sped as his muscles bunched into combat mode. He willed himself to slow his breathing and to focus as his training dictated. But this wasn’t just a logistics problem. This was Joie, a living, vital woman whom he deeply cared about.

  “Tell me.” His voice, loud and harsh, startled the maid who backed away from him.

  Jordy’s disapproving head shake helped Reggie to temper his questions.

  Reggie switched to the soothing voice he often used on his younger sisters despite his burning urgency to race into the streets and search. “When did you last see her?”

  “She was lying in her bed, ready for sleep. I awakened a bit ago because the room had grown very warm, which is when I discovered a blazing fire, the candles lit, and her bed empty. She took my cloak and her half-boots. But she didn’t change out of her nightclothes. She must have been in great haste.”

  “Would you have heard anyone else enter or leave the room?”

  Reggie was trying to reassure himself that Joie couldn’t have been kidnapped without the maid hearing.

  “I would have heard because Joie would have screamed if someone entered our room. She isn’t a shy miss.”

  He didn’t share that Joie might not scream if someone held a pistol to her head. He couldn’t deduce a credible reason for Paulette to kidnap Joie. The young woman was of no value to the French. Her only value was because of her relationship to him. But why not just kidnap him? And for what purpose? Paulette came to France to work with him.

  “She didn’t mention anything that concerned her?”

  “She was very upset after you shouted at her. She refused to speak of it and refused dinner, which for Miss Joie is unusual. She’s usually talkative and always has a healthy appetite.” The maid’s voice trembled. “I could hear her crying when she thought I was asleep.”

  He regretted his behavior, but he saw no other way to sever their connection. If Paulette were behind Joie’s disappearance, then his performance was for naught. And evidently, he wasn’t harsh enough if Joie continued her snooping and ventured in this dangerous port town.

  “Is it possible that Fredrick left with Joie?”

  Fredrick, absent from his post, argued that Joie had left of her own will and that she had Fredrick accompany her.

  “He was sleeping in front of the fire when I left for the tavern. He or Tanner have stayed in the lobby at night,” Jordy added.

  “Then the good news is that your mistress is most likely with Fredrick, who will protect her.”

  Reggie didn’t think he convinced anyone that Fredrick could protect Joie against the hardened smugglers who roamed the town at night.

  “Is there anything else you remember? Did she take anything besides her boots and her cloak?”

  “I first went to your door when Joie wasn’t in her bed, but you weren’t there. I thought that maybe . . . Joie went to your room to patch things up between you. When you weren’t in your room, I went to that woman’s door. She was gone too. You and that woman are the reason my mistress is missing. Joie is too trusting and too easily gives her heart to unfeeling gentlemen.”

  He wasn’t unfeeling. If he were unfeeling, his gut wouldn’t be twisted into knots, and his heart wouldn’t be flying. Esme had no idea of the amount of self-control that he maintained in order to stand still, act rationally, and ask questions when all he wanted was to vent his helplessness and smash someone into the wall. And the only bloody reason he was able to control himself was because it was the only way he could find Joie. He cared too much, and that was a huge liability. If she were harmed in any way, whoever was responsible would pay.

  “Jordy, can you get Tanner from the stables while I escort Madame to her room?” Reggie wanted to search Paulette’s room for any clues on both women’s disappearances. Like Esme, he concluded that Paulette was at the center of Joie’s disappearance.

  After the quick and fruitless search through Paulette’s belongings, Reggie returned to his own room. There he spotted the note that Paulette had left. He rushed to the lobby. Seven burly men, including Tanner, surrounded Jordy.

 

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