Ducal Encounters 02 - With the Duke's Approval (7 page)

But his fleeting pleasure would now be tempered by her brothers’ anger. They would hold him responsible for her disappearance, which would have an adverse effect on their already rocky relationship. If Anna got out of this unharmed, Lord Romsey would not wish to know her. She had already caused him quite enough trouble, and nothing could be permitted to come between him and his blasted duty.

“We shall see about that,” she said aloud, more determined than ever to broaden his horizons.

Anna rubbed her hands together, stood up, and stamped her feet in a futile effort to restore some feeling into them. She waved her arms around and tried to get the blood flowing through her body. Her efforts proved woefully inadequate. She paused when she heard voices on the other side of the door. She thought it was the two men who had brought her here, but she couldn’t hear what they actually said. Perhaps that was not such a bad thing. Ignorance was sometimes bliss. She had obviously been abducted by order, otherwise why would someone be coming to talk to her? What possible information could she possess that required such dangerous, daring, and drastic action?

Anna kicked off her damp slippers. They were making her feet even colder. She felt about until she found the old sack they had used to cover her head. Using all her strength, she rent it in half, and then half again. She tied a piece around each foot as tightly as she could manage. Wiggling her toes, she felt a little, a very little, warmer. She managed a wry smile as she imagined what she must look like. A beautiful but torn ball gown, sacking on her feet, her hair falling all over the place, her lip cut and caked with dried blood, and her entire body blue with cold.

But she was alive.

Never lose sight of that fact, she told herself repeatedly.

Anna was unsure how long she sat there, her arms cuddling her upraised knees beneath the ratty blanket, colder than she had been in her entire life. To her astonishment she must have dozed because something, some sound, woke her. No, not a sound, she realised, but lack of it. The storm had passed, the wind was gone, and it was now deathly quiet. She opened her eyes and gasped with relief. There was some light in the room. She could see the shape of the boxes stacked all around her quite clearly. It took her a moment to realise the light was coming from the window. The sky was now crystal clear, lit up by a near full moon.

She moved slowly and awkwardly on stiff limbs, shuffling across to the window. Yes, she was definitely close to the wharf. She could smell the rancid river and see other large warehouses looming nearby. What had actually woken her was the sound of a branch knocking against her window. It must have been drowned out before now by the storm. She looked more closely, astonished to see such a large tree in the area. A large tree with strong branches. Just like the ones she and boys delighted in climbing when they were younger. She shook her head. It was many years since she had climbed a tree. Besides, those trees had not been covered in frost and snow, nor had they been situated in an area with which she was unfamiliar. Even if she escaped, she was in a derelict part of town, wearing a ball gown and sacking slippers. She would be set upon in seconds, if only for the value of the silk gown.

She shook her head and returned to her chair, the brief hope that had flared quickly diminished. Escape was impossible.

Close to tears of despair, her head jerked up when she heard a new voice on the other side of the wall. A voice that exuded authority, and to which the other two men deferred. This, presumably, was the person who had come to talk to her.

“Is she here?”

“Yes, sir. In there.”

“Let me see.”

Anna straightened her spine, expecting the door to open at any moment. Instead, a flap was pushed up in the wall beside the door and a light shone through it. It blinded Anna, and she covered her eyes. The light was abruptly withdrawn, the flap closed, and Anna’s ears were assaulted by colourful swearing.

“You fools! You got the wrong woman.”

“But…but you said to get the one with the colourful shawl. You said she would be on the terrace at some point. She was the only one out there, and she
was
wearing a colourful shawl.”

Dear God, it wasn’t her they had wanted, Anna thought desperately. It was Frankie. What would they do with her now? She wasn’t left in ignorance for long.

“That is Lady Annalise Sheridan, the sister to a duke,” the newcomer said. “Perdition, the duke will make the devil of a stink about this.”

Most certainly!

“How were we to know?” one of the men asked peevishly.

Anna heard a sharp slapping noise—a hand striking flesh—and someone cried out. She thought it was her original abductor. Anna hoped it hurt like the devil. She tried to still the frantic beating of her heart and think what this latest development signified. Nothing to her benefit, that much was immediately apparent. Her mind felt sluggish, affected by the biting cold, and thinking was almost too much effort. The newcomer knew who she was, but Anna didn’t recognise his voice. He sounded foreign, speaking English with a heavy accent. Thoughts of Count von Hessel, Miss Outwood’s future husband, flooded her brain, she was unsure why. There had been a lot of foreign dignities at the ball that evening, and she had been introduced to several of them, but not von Hessel. He and Frankie knew one another, but she knew a lot of the others, too. What possible reason would any of them have to abduct her?

One factor did manage to penetrate her addled brain. It was unlikely she would be offered an apology and returned home.

“You will have to get rid of her,” the newcomer said. Anna gasped, her worse fears realised. “But leave it until I am well clear of the district.”

***

“Whom do I think abducted Lady Annalise?” Clarence repeated Winchester’s question in a measured tone, cupping his chin in his hand as he thought about it. “I would give a very great deal to know not only whom by, but why. I am completely without firm intelligence to guide me. I had absolutely no idea anything like this was planned, which in itself is unusual. It’s such an audacious crime that word really ought to have leaked out.”

“You both think this was no opportunistic abduction?” Vince asked, sharing a glance between Clarence and Winchester.

“Romsey’s situation has given him the opportunity to make a lot of enemies,” Winchester told his brother.

“Part and parcel of my role,” Clarence replied indifferently.

“There were a lot of foreigners at the duchess’s ball,” Nate remarked.

“The prince regent enjoys entertaining our allies and takes personal credit for defeating Napoleon,” Clarence said, only years of training preventing him from showing the contempt he felt for the man’s arrogance.

“I gather he has uniforms made, prances about in them, and re-enacts his part at Waterloo to his long-suffering guests,” Nate said.

Winchester nodded. “Take it from one who knows. He does. He has actually convinced himself he was there and takes all the credit for the victory.”

“Remarkable,” Vince said, shaking his head.

“Did anyone stand out this evening, Romsey?” Winchester asked. “Anyone with special reason to be annoyed with you?”

Clarence shrugged. “I know things about a lot of the people in attendance tonight, most of it not to their credit. But it’s not within England’s interests to reveal that information, and those men are astute enough to realise it.” Clarence scrubbed a hand down his face. “Or put another way, they are not desperate enough to kidnap a young lady to buy my silence. Tension still runs high throughout Europe, but the prince actually helps by inviting the leading lights from Europe to feel at home here in England.”

“Which is not his intention,” Winchester said, grimacing.

“Even if they did feel desperate enough to resort to kidnapping, how would they know to target Anna?” Nate asked. “To the best of my knowledge, you have not spent time in her company in public before tonight.”

“Quite. Whoever took Anna went to considerable trouble to get into the duchess’s garden,” Winchester said. “So their plans had to be made in advance. And they then laid in wait when the temperatures were freezing, on the off chance Anna might appear.” He looked as dubious as Clarence felt. “You really have upset someone, Romsey.”

“Evidently.”

The brothers shared a speaking look that excluded Clarence. “It doesn’t seem plausible,” Vince said for them all. “Unless the rogues planned to sneak into the house, dressed…I don’t know, in livery perhaps, passing themselves off as servants, or even as guests. It was so crowded, no one would have noticed. Once inside, they planned to capture someone that way. But then they saw Anna and made off with her.”

“It’s possible,” Winchester agreed, absently fondling the ears of one of his dogs, “but unlikely.”

“I concur,” Clarence said.

“The temperature is a very good reason why you and Anna shouldn’t have been out there in the first place,” Nate said, scowling.

“I did point that out to Lady Annalise, but she laughed off my concerns.” Clarence inclined his head. “Your sister was anxious to avoid Roker.”

“Ah.” Winchester nodded. “Roker is an idiot.”

Clarence offered a wry smile. “You sister agrees with that assessment and, apparently, likes snow.”

The brothers shared a brittle smile. “That is certainly true.”

“But still, taking her outside in sub-zero temperatures?” Vince shook his head.

“Have you ever tried to stop Anna when she has her heart set on a particular course?” Winchester asked his brothers.

“Hmm, you have a point.” The tension in Vince’s shoulders eased, and Clarence knew he had been vindicated, at least to some degree, by Lady Annalise’s brothers. That was all very well, but forgiving himself would not be so easily achieved.

“Wherever she is,” Nate said, pacing the room like a caged tiger, “I hope she has some light. Our sister is afraid of the dark.”

“She accidently locked herself in a dark cupboard on the nursery floor at the Park when she was little,” Winchester explained. “It was some time before she was found, and she never got over the experience.”

“Not that she would admit it,” Vince added, a fond smile playing briefly about his lips before he returned to his scowling. “But it’s nonetheless true.”

“Dear God.” Clarence ran a hand through his hair. “We have to find her.”

“She will be so very cold,” Nate said. “I can’t bear to think of it.”

“No she…damnation, that’s it!” Clarence thumped his thigh with his clenched fist. “I’m a numbskull. I should have made the connection much sooner.”

“What?” asked three Sheridans in unison.

“She was wearing Frankie’s shawl.” Clarence shared a glance between the brothers. “It wasn’t Anna who was the target, but Frankie.”

Hearing the man casually order his underlings to
get rid of her
caused Anna’s survival instincts to kick in. Her inertia was replaced by the urgent need for action. She was damned if she would meekly sit here waiting for her own execution. She briefly considered bashing on the door and offering the men a handsome reward if they returned her to Berkeley Square. In the end, she decided against it, since she couldn’t be sure they would agree.

She waited until she heard the newcomer’s boots ringing on the stairs as he clattered down them. She waited a little longer, listening to the other two muttering curses, expecting them to grab her at any moment. If they had been given permission to kill her, there was no saying what they might do to her before that. Shuddering as she recalled the rancid breath of the first man who had grabbed her, the feel of his hands on her leg as he untied her ankles, she decided she could not afford to wait any longer. No ransom demand would be sent. No one would come to her rescue.

She was on her own.

Anna walked across to the window, convinced with the way her luck was running that it would not open. It was stiff but, to her considerable gratification, she was able to force it open. The freezing outside air blasted her face, but she welcomed the feel of freedom, so close and yet tantalisingly out of reach. The branches were close enough for her to be able to clamber from the window and grab the nearest one, except she would fall at the first hurdle if she attempted to do so with just her flimsy lace evening gloves covering her hands. She picked up the discarded parts of the sack and bound them awkwardly around her palms, leaving her fingers free. Sighing, she ripped her skirts so she could tie them around her legs, using a ribbon from her petticoats to fasten the blanket around her shoulders.

As ready as she would ever be, Anna took a deep breath and pulled herself through the window onto the ledge. It was covered with ice and, even with the rough sacking to protect her feet, she almost slid to her doom. Gasping, she grabbed the window frame and just managed to save herself. Heart pumping, she took a moment to compose herself and thought about her predicament. The nearest branch was further away than it had appeared from inside. So too was the ground. Unaware how much more time was available to her, Anna could not afford to linger. Her courage would fail her, or she would freeze to death, if she didn’t move right away. She lurched forward, reaching for the branch with both hands, stupidly closing her eyes at the vital moment. She gasped as her frozen fingers, stiff and unwilling to bend, made awkward contact with the frosty branch. It felt as though they had been burned, although how it was possible to burn and freeze at the same time, Anna could not have said.

One hand slipped and she found herself clinging awkwardly with the other, the fingers already so cold she didn’t think she could hold on. She glanced down—a long way down to the ground below her—as the muscles in her arms screamed for mercy. If she let go she would break her legs at the very least, and that she was fiercely determined not to do. Quite apart from anything else, she refused to do her captors’ work for them.

It was the thought of Lord Romsey’s eyes, alight with laughter, and of his lopsided smile when she said something that amused him that gave her courage to struggle on. She swung her legs violently, making her body work like a metronome as she continued to cling one-handed to the branch that now flexed alarming beneath her weight. At the third attempt, she collided with considerable force against the frosty trunk of the tree, hitting her head on the branch above her, and sending snow cascading into her hair and knocking the air from her lungs. She ignored the cold ice that trickled down her neck and hugged the trunk with both arms, struggling to regain her breath. She felt mildly euphoric to have got that far. Now all she had to do was climb down the branches until she reached solid ground.