Dangerous Lover, page 16
“Goodness, no,” Alexandra replied. “We’ve come to rescue you and take you home.”
The remaining man would not have been much threat to the combined forces of Sir Nicholas, Dragan, and Ingram, but they had reckoned without the women. With a shriek of rage, one, who looked quite young, had launched herself on Sir Nicholas’s back.
“Where’s Henry?” another of the boys demanded in panic.
“With his father,” Alexandra replied.
“Did you do that?” the third boy asked with clear awe.
“No,” Alexandra said, distracted by the fracas in the room. “But I saw them going home together.”
The woman, still firmly attached to Sir Nicholas’s back, snatched up a pitcher from the table, with the clear aim of bringing it down on his head—she knocked his hat off, presumably with the express purpose. But Dragan, to Alexandra’s relief, suddenly leapt up, snatched the pitcher from her hand, and instead brought it down on the head of the second male kidnapper.
He stumbled backward, clutching his head, and tripped over the body of his friend. As he fell, the older woman charged Dragan with a howl of rage. Ingram grabbed her arm to slow her down and received a buffet to the face from her other hand.
In other circumstances, it might have been funny. As it was, a surge of hysterical laughter threatened Alexandra’s calm demeanor. It was clear none of the men were used to dealing with violent women, and as gentlemen, they were held back by chivalry as they were not against men.
“I would like to go home,” the first boy said firmly. “Now.”
“Are you all dressed?”
“We sleep in our clothes here. It’s cold otherwise, and there are no nightgowns.”
“What are your names?” Alexandra asked desperately, more to distract them than because she cared much at this precise point in proceedings.
Griz, meanwhile, had moved to the wooden chair where the neglected carpetbag full of Swan money resided, watching as Nicholas spun around in an effort to dislodge his shrieking burden, and the older woman snatched up a kitchen knife from the table.
Things had turned suddenly much more dangerous.
Griz snatched up the bag. “Oh, for the love of—” She marched straight up to Nicholas and swung the bag high and accurately. With a yelp, his attacker dropped off, falling to the floor with a clatter.
The older woman with the knife glanced round, distracted, and Dragan managed to grasp the wrist that held the knife. As she brought up her other fist with clear intent, Griz grasped it and twisted it up her back.
She dropped the knife, and Ingram picked it up, keeping warily away from her feet.
“Come along, boys,” Alexandra said, herding them together.
“You,” Griz uttered, pointing from one woman to the other, “are in so much trouble. What do you mean by keeping other people’s children here? The police are on their way, and if you don’t want to have assaulting a duke’s daughter added to your charges, you had better keep out of my way.”
Amazingly enough, for the first time since Alexandra had known her, she looked and sounded exactly like a duke’s daughter, even with the wilted pink feathers falling over her face.
Sir Nicholas strode to the door, and Alexandra hurried past them with the boys. Only when they were outside did Dragan and Griz follow.
Nicholas led the way between the buildings Dragan had indicated earlier, and in a swift, silent column, they bolted for Holborn. From where, in two hired cabs, they drove to Scotland Yard.
Two hours later, Sir Nicholas handed Alexandra down from another hackney outside New Hungerford House, and they made their weary way up the path to the front door, where Sir Nicholas let them in with his key.
The house was in darkness, save for one lamp by the door, turned down low. Sir Nicholas turned it up and used spills to light two waiting candles from it. One, he handed politely to Alexandra, who took it with a grateful murmur.
The long and exciting evening spent as his equal had made her quite comfortable in his presence, but as their fingers brushed, a jolt of fresh awareness shot through her. Ignoring it, she walked calmly to the staircase and began to climb. He walked beside her, tall and imposing, no longer just her employer but her comrade, which, for some reason, made her inconvenient feelings for him easier to bear.
“I don’t know about you,” he murmured, “but after an evening like that, I need a large glass of brandy.”
“I could hardly blame you.”
“That harpy kicked me black and blue. I am only grateful she did not scratch my eyes out.”
“She was an enthusiastic but not very efficient harpy,” Alexandra agreed.
They reached the landing opposite the dark drawing room. Deliberately, she did not look at it.
“Goodnight,” she murmured, at the same time as Sir Nicholas said, “Will you join me?”
She drew in her breath and met his gaze. Candlelight flickered across his lean, saturnine face. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said firmly, while she longed to go with him to the drawing room, the library, or anywhere at all.
A rueful smile tugged at his lips and her heart. “I promise, I shan’t touch you. If you don’t play the piano.”
She should keep to her original plan and her own good advice and retire immediately to her chamber. Though it seemed somehow cowardly, as well as churlish. After all, he had more or less admitted it was the music that had led him astray.
“I would like your opinion,” he said casually, “about our kidnappers.”
Her heart beat drummed. She was too tired to care what it meant. “Very well,” she said calmly and walked past him in the direction of the library. Making it clear there would be no music and no excuse.
He followed but reached the door in time to open it for her. The room was in darkness save for their own candles, but he moved past her, lighting more lamps before setting down his candle beside hers. He walked to the decanter on the table and poured two glasses of brandy, while she went to the armchairs and sank gratefully into one.
“Thank you.” She took the proffered glass from him, making sure this time not to touch his fingers.
He took the other chair. For a moment, he sat back with a sigh of satisfaction, then leaned forward again to clink glasses with her. With his disordered hair and his grazed knuckles, in his unconventional “poetic” garb, he looked peculiarly decadent. And desirable enough to melt her heart all over again.
But she clinked glasses with the devil and drank, hoping the burning liquid would shock her into reality. But it was smooth and warm and served rather to soothe her.
“So, what do you think of our kidnappers?” he asked, sitting back once more.
Two police constables had brought them in while they were still at Scotland Yard with the children. The women had fled, but Inspector Harris, who had been roused from his well-earned rest and dragged across town to deal with the situation, seemed confident of finding them again. He seemed to know who they were.
“I think,” Alexandra replied, “that none of them are bright enough to have arranged this. They had a clever little game going on, only taking eldest sons, presumably for maximum value, warning the parents to silence on pain of death to their children, and accepting large ransoms, after which the boys were freed unharmed and the parents still too frightened, for the most part, to tell the authorities what had happened.”
“So even with the women, we do not have the whole gang,” Sir Nicholas said. “Your cloaked man?”
“In the absence of anyone else. But he seemed to vanish altogether, leaving the money with our poor fools.”
“Perhaps you and Ingram scared him off. Perhaps he sicked that lot on you in the clearing to be rid of you, and stayed out of the way when that didn’t work.” He shifted and waved his glass dismissively. “Whatever, I think we’ve broken up the game. He won’t try it again for a long time.”
“Do you think the police will still look for him?”
“I think Tizsa and Griz will.” He smiled. “They are quite a pair.”
An unladylike snort of laughter shook Alexandra. “When she knocked that woman off your back with the carpetbag…!”
Nicholas grinned. “I was very grateful. I have no idea how to fight women, though you’d think I’d have learned by now.”
She took another sip of brandy. “Do women attack you very often?”
“No.” The smile died on his lips. “Though Eva—Evelina’s mother—used to throw things.” He stroked his jaw. “And she had quite an effective right hook.”
Alexandra gazed at him. “Did you deserve it?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But usually not.”
“Why did you stay with her?” she blurted.
“Oh, I didn’t. But then, there was Evelina.” He broke off with a shrug and drank. “I regret nothing because of Evelina.”
An ache grew in Alexandra’s heart. She wondered how much he had loved Evelina’s mother, how much he had been hurt by her behavior, and yet was forced to keep seeing her in order to see his daughter.
He drew in a sharp breath. “Evelina loved her mother, but Eva was not kind to her either. It was Eva who shut her in a dark cupboard for whining and then went out and forgot about her. The maid found her the next morning. Eva thought a little petting and a nice present would make everything right again, but it didn’t. That is when I found Anna and insisted she live with them to look after Evelina.”
Alexandra swallowed. No wonder he refused to allow the child to be locked alone in a room under any circumstances. There were many forms of cruelty.
“Was your duel over Evelina’s mother?” The words tumbled out with her sudden thought, appalling her. It seemed she had become too comfortable with him.
His gaze snapped up from his glass to her face, but he looked more rueful than angry. “You heard about that? No, the duel was fought long before I ever met Eva, when I was still young enough to imagine I had to kill a man to prove my honor. Or at least be prepared to wound or die. It was a waste of life, over a trivial quarrel that should never—” He broke off, his lips twisting. “I still see his face when I close my eyes. I always will.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. Not for me, at any rate.” He drew a quick breath. “You should probably know that, too, was one of Eva’s weapons. She knew it hurt me, so she told Evelina I had murdered someone. Evelina didn’t know what it meant, but she would repeat it occasionally. I expect she still does.”
Alexandra looked away as anger with Evelina’s dead mother rose painfully to her chest. She sipped her brandy and was aware of him raising his own glass to his lips.
“Those boys tonight were not frightened or hurt,” Nicholas said, abruptly changing the subject. “They were well-cared for.”
“Apart from the dirt and the imprisonment.”
“Most boys do not notice dirt. And the imprisonment seemed to have been made into a game, like extended hide-and-seek. There were always several children at a time, so they had company. Two of them tonight even knew each other before they were kidnapped. Before they could tire very much of the adventure, they seem to have been returned to their parents for considerable amounts of money, judging by Henry’s ransom.”
He glanced up and smiled at her, depriving her of breath. “I don’t know whether or not I should apologize for dragging you into this mess.”
“No, for I went willingly. And it was fun—in a very strange way. Besides, it is less of a mess now. Your nephew is home with his parents, and three more boys are back with theirs without having to pay a ransom.”
The smile lingered on his lips and in his eyes. “You took the nasty, seamy side of life in your stride.”
“So did you.”
“Well, it is hardly new to me. When I first ran away from home, I lived among the poorest and saw the worst—and the best—of life. What is your excuse?”
She hesitated, fighting a sudden desire to tell him everything. The habit of secrecy was well ingrained. So, she compromised. “Living with my father was not all salons and palaces and concert halls. I, too, saw different aspects of the world. An itinerant musician does not earn a steady income. Besides which, my father was given to gambling and to luxury when he could obtain it.”
“And when he couldn’t?”
She shrugged. “Grubby lodgings.” Until he could fleece some unsuspecting music lover or worm his way into the home of a wealthy, tolerant patron. To say nothing of the outright theft. But she would not think of that.
She blinked the images away and found Sir Nicholas’s perceptive gaze on her face.
“Someday, we must compare grubby lodgings,” he said humorously. “I am glad, at least, to see you out of such a situation now.”
She nodded. “I used to remind myself of the worst times when I felt put upon as a governess. Even with the Laceys, I had a safe and decent home and never went hungry.” She set down the brandy, afraid she was talking too much. “Thank you for the brandy. I must go to bed now, or I will be quite useless tomorrow.”
He rose when she did. “Take an extra hour in the morning. Anna will cope if I cannot be there.”
“No,” she said at once, “I would rather be there.” The necessity of being indispensable to the family who employed her was hard to overlook. Besides which, stability and routine were good for Evelina.
“Very well.” He stood too close to her, gazing down at her but making no attempt to touch her.
She wondered what would happen if she touched him. If she reached up and brushed her lips across his, would his mouth fasten to hers again in another of those wild kisses? Would he jerk away, his honor offended by her boldness?
Well, she was not bold enough to find out. Or face the consequences of either.
“Goodnight, Sir Nicholas,” she said formally, moving hastily away from him.
“Good night, Alexandra Battle.”
It took peculiar effort to leave him, and yet when she closed the door on him and made her way upstairs to bed, she found she was smiling because they were friends.
*
She did sleep later than normal the following morning, which meant she had little time to herself before she had to throw on her clothes, cram her hair into some kind of order, and stagger downstairs to the schoolroom for breakfast with the unreasonably lively Evelina. For the first time, she asked for more coffee.
However, they began lessons on time, which was a matter of pride for Alexandra. While Evelina worked on her arithmetic exercises, Alexandra began planning a game that would use the globe in the corner to teach Evelina about other countries and their location compared to Britain. Keeping busy was the only way she knew to prevent her mind dwelling on Sir Nicholas.
A knock on the schoolroom door made her heart leap with hope, before she remembered that Sir Nicholas never knocked, and scolded herself for foolishness. It was Clara who entered at her bidding.
“Beg your pardon, Miss. Sir Nicholas is asking for a few moments of your time.”
Evelina looked up so eagerly that the maid added apologetically, “Just Miss Battle. It’s a grown-up meeting.”
“Of course,” Alexandra said calmly, hoping this would not initiate a tantrum. “Evelina, see if you can finish the exercise before I return, and if it’s very neat and all correct, we can put it aside to show your father later on so that he can see how well you are doing.”
The stratagem seemed to work, for by the time she had gone into the playroom to ask Anna to keep an eye on the child, there were no sounds of temper.
Sir Nicholas, of course, was in the library. Crossing the first-floor landing, she was surprised, when she glanced downstairs, to see the figures of two uniformed policemen in the hall. The reason became plain, for on entering the library with a drumming heart, she found Inspector Harris with Sir Nicholas.
Both men rose from the large desk when she entered.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Inspector Harris said with a short bow. “I have just been telling Sir Nicholas how we’ve found the two women and talked to them, as well as to the children you freed. And Henry Swan. Mr. Ralph Swan has identified one of the men as the kidnapper who brought Ralph to meet him and took the ransom.”
Alexandra sat in the chair which had already been set for her at the side of the desk between the inspector and Sir Nicholas. For some reason, it struck her that he could thus see both of them at the same time.
“How are the children?” she asked.
“Very well, all things considered,” Harris replied. “Surprisingly so. None of them were hurt, nor even particularly frightened by their experience. No one hit them or tied them up, or even gagged them. In fact, the women played with them, fed them well, and generally looked after them. Their imprisonment was made into a game, a joke which they’d soon get to appreciate.”
Alexandra nodded. “Yes, that’s the impression they gave us.”
“Neither the men who took them nor the women who looked after them, so much as clipped them round the ear for talking too loudly or squabbling.” Harris smiled thinly. “That isn’t natural.”
“Sir, I never strike my pupils,” Alexandra said, faintly amused.
“Forgive me, but you’re employed by their parents. Men like Gorey and Burke—the kidnappers—are not known for keeping their hands to themselves. And you may trust me when I tell you the women are not known for the gentle natures.”
“Oh, we definitely trust you on that score,” Sir Nicholas murmured, rubbing his neck beneath the collar where the older woman had tried to strangle him.
“So why in the four days he was away, did Henry Swan not receive so much as a slap on the wrist? In the two and three days, the other boys were there, not so much as a shove. They’re well brought up children, but they are children, and you’re not telling me they behaved that well for that length of time.”
“Your point being?” Sir Nicholas asked impatiently.
“That someone instructed the adults to treat them well,” Alexandra said slowly. She glanced at Sir Nicholas triumphantly. “The cloaked man, just as we said! Have you found him, Inspector?”
