Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 05] (25 page)

A
bigail paced the small room, her shoes echoing softly on the thin wool drugget covering the floor. The chamber was about twenty paces long and twenty paces wide, with a heavy wooden door to the hallway that was bolted from the other side.

To her left was a side door leading to the small chamber where the boys slept, and to her right a dirty barred window that could not open more than two inches. She’d pushed it open as far as it would go, but the window was secured by a thick chain hammered into the wood. She could not escape that route. But even if she succeeded getting out that window, it was a four-story drop to the ground.

Nor could she try to wave down a Good Samaritan or call for help, since the window looked out over a deserted alleyway and no street was anywhere near. The only good things the window could provide were a hint of fresh air in the musty room and a sense of the hour. The sun had set, darkness had fallen, and by her reckoning it must be about ten o’clock.

The air smelled of burning wood from the smoldering hearth and the single tallow candle that provided
the only dim light in the room. Shadows yawned wide, pricking at her nerves and exacerbating her anxiety.

Hugging herself, Abigail exhaled, frustrated, afraid, and wondering what the blazes a criminal like Lucifer Laverty wanted with her and Seth and Felix. The most likely scenario Abigail could scratch up was that they were being held for ransom. And that meant the threat of death. She shuddered. But to cross the Solicitor-General of England?

Then there was the possibility that this was some sort of scheme to exact revenge against Lord Steele. And there had been that attack on him at the park. She did not doubt that it all was related. But how? And if the villain was willing to attack the solicitor-general and kidnap two boys in broad daylight, then what else was he willing to do?

But no, she couldn’t think such things or she’d be useless to the boys. They needed her to be calm, to be ready to grab any opportunity that presented itself. She had to be at her very, very best…

And she was terrified that she wasn’t up to the task.

Clenching her hands, she pushed aside all fears of inadequacy, knowing that she would do whatever necessary to save Seth and Felix from harm…

Abigail stepped over to the side door and opened it slightly, checking on them for the thousandth time that night.

A small tallow candle burned on the bedside table, encasing the boys’ slumbering faces in a golden glow. They huddled together in sleep, fatigued from the crying and fear that had gripped them since the kidnapping that afternoon.

The tiny room was barely big enough for the bed in which they slept and the bedside table upon which the candle sat. Abigail guessed that it might have been a dressing room or closet at one time. In this instance, however, it was being used by Lucifer Laverty as a prison cell.

The name brought bumps of panic to her skin.

They were at the mercy of one of the most feared and reviled men in London.

And it was Reggie’s fault. She still couldn’t believe that Reggie had traded her and the boys to save his skin. Her hands clenched. She wanted to strangle him for it.

Her heart pinched as her anger boiled. He was a reckless fool!

Yet he’d fought his own men and paid dearly for it. When they’d arrived at the house, the brutes had been less than gentle with her baby brother as they’d dragged him off to parts unknown.

Please let the stupid idiot be all right
, she prayed.

Hugging herself, she walked over to the window. Peering through the small opening, Abigail stared at the rooftops, wondering where Steele might be. He’d be terrified, angry, and probably already had an army of Bow Street Runners scouring London for them.

The thought gave her hope…If anyone could save them, it was Steele.

She was overwhelmed by the sudden realization that she counted on him and trusted him as she had no other. He shouldered her troubles, accepting them as his own, making her feel as if she were not so very alone in this world. With him, she found
a love that went beyond anything she’d ever felt for anyone before, an affinity that was more like a sense of partnership.

The thought that she might never see him again brought harsh tears to her eyes. Brushing them away, she mentally chided herself to be brave, to be a woman worthy of Lord Steele.

“Where are you?” she whispered to the man she loved. “I need you.”

At that very moment, Steele stood on the rooftop two stories above Abigail, with Lucifer Laverty’s henchman unconscious at his feet. He wore his Sentinel costume like a second skin, truly embracing his former calling so he could be the man he needed to be to save his family.

Every time he thought of Seth or Felix or Abigail, panic would rush through him. But he pushed it down, making sure that his every move was coolly calculated to bring the people he loved home with him safely.

Squatting down, he expertly tied the rope to the chimney joint and yanked it tight. The joint held secure. He uncoiled the rest of the rope and wrapped it around his waist and over his shoulder like a pulley. He stepped over to the edge of the rooftop and looked down six stories into the alley, satisfied to see that it was still deserted.

If Sir Lee’s information proved true, Abigail was just twenty or so feet below him. A faint glow of light shone through the small opening of the window where she was supposedly being held. His heart hammered, and his palms were moist inside his gloves.
But he ignored his apprehension, knowing there was a job to do.

Turning, he slowly lowered himself over the edge of the roof and down the side of the house. His feet crept downward as inch by inch he dropped toward that opening. He was careful not to make a sound. According to Sir Lee, there were at least twenty of Lucifer Laverty’s men inside the house. Any one of those ruffians would gladly murder him for interfering with Lucifer’s plans.

Finally he made it to the opening and exhaled with relief. He peered inside.

His breath caught.

Abigail paced before the mantel, looking whole and hale and more beautiful than any woman he’d ever laid eyes upon in his life.

I love her
, he realized in that moment. It was like a lightning bolt striking him deep in his soul, searing him with the knowledge that she was his mate.

I need her
, he realized.
To make me whole.

He swallowed, overcome.

Never in his life had he experienced such absolute harmony between his heart and his head. Intellectually he knew she was his equal; in his heart he recognized there was no other for him.

He was about to whisper her name, but noticed that she’d suddenly stopped pacing and that her head had swung toward the hallway door expectantly.

Male voices resounded in the hallway, followed by the stomping of booted feet.

Steele went cold.

Quickly Abigail moved before a closed side door, her hands raised into fists before her.

The boys are in there
, he suddenly knew. Abigail was a lioness, protecting those she loved. Never had he admired a woman more.

The sound of the bolt sliding in the lock met his ears.

Steele tensed, eyeing the thick chain securing the window closed. He would not be able to breach the chain to help Abigail without drawing Lucifer’s henchmen. And Gabriel and Andrew Cutler weren’t yet in place to execute their plan.

We need more time!
But they seemingly hadn’t harmed Abigail and the boys, and Steele had to pray that they wouldn’t just yet.

Leaning forward, he angled away from the opening so he could not be seen but he could see and hear what occurred within. If he needed to, he’d slam through that barred window, come hell or what may.

The door creaked open, splashing a beam of light across the chamber’s floor.

He tensed.

The door opened wider and a fist holding a tall, lit candlestick was thrust through the opening, followed by a blond-haired man.

Abigail blinked. “Mr. Littlethom?”

Son of a bitch! What’s he doing here?

For a moment Littlethom stood in the threshold, eyeing the room, then his gaze landed on Abigail and his face lit into a wide, brilliant smile. “Miss West! I don’t know the last time that I was so glad to see someone!”

“I don’t…I don’t understand,” she stammered.

Littlethom bowed with a flourish. “I’m here to save you.”

L
ittlethom stepped into the room, followed by a heavyset brute with thick fists and quick eyes. Abigail swallowed. The man’s curled fists were as big as ham hocks.

Abigail tensed, warily watching the brute as he closed the door behind him.

“Oh, have no fear, Miss West,” the handsome tutor chided with a wave of his hand. He was dressed in his old-fashioned gray breeches and an elbow-worn brown coat. His blond hair was slicked back with pomade. Littlethom’s mien was relaxed, his smile easy. “William is just here on Mr. Laverty’s behalf. So you will know that what I say carries weight and is spoken in seriousness.”

That brute has enough weight to ensure that I definitely will take him seriously
, she thought.

The tutor set the candle down on the small table by the side door, and Abigail stood her ground and would not move away from her position. She caught a whiff of violet cologne as he stepped back, keeping his distance. She could not fathom his purpose here and forced her mind to try to grasp it all.

Stepping back, Littlethom motioned for the brute named William to stand by the barred window. The man stomped across the small chamber, his gaze not once leaving Abigail’s face. His eyes reminded Abigail of a hawk, sharp and knowing.

Silently the man peered out the small opening in the window and then spun on his heel. He stood before the window, his shoulders squared, his hands clutched before him.

Littlethom gave an apologetic smile. “I know this is very untoward, but I will endeavor to explain.”

“Please do,” she bit out.

“This entire situation is the invention of Lord Steele. He placed the children in danger in order to convince Lord Benbrook to make him his heir.”

Abigail shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I applaud your loyalty, Miss West. But I have proof positive of what I speak.” Littlethom reached inside his coat pocket, pulling out a roll of vellum.

“What’s that?” Abigail asked.

“This is Steele’s demand that Benbrook make him his heir, his reasoning being that there is a threat against the children. It is also the document itself, which would declare Steele the heir to everything owned by Benbrook, unsigned, of course. Benbrook has not yet agreed, which is why the boys were kidnapped. Benbrook is on his way to London at this moment, just as Steele had planned.”

The man continued, his tone assured, “Steele, you see, is known as the most striving fellow in the kingdom. Everyone knows that he’ll do anything to further his ambitions. Even more so, he wants revenge against Benbrook for never accepting him
into his family. If Benbrook makes him his heir, then Steele gets the ultimate revenge—money, title…everything. He also becomes the man he has always striven to be.”

Shaking his head, Littlethom sighed. “It is astonishing the lengths to which a man will go to sate his ambitions.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Oh, you must, for I have the proof.” Littlethom held out the documents. “But there is more. You recall Mr. Lyner-Mider, the agency representative?”

Abigail did not bother to correct him and simply nodded.

“The old gent is not an agency representative at all! He’s a nobleman, for heaven’s sake! A knight, no less! His name is Sir Lee Devane.”

Her suspicions must have shown on her face, because Littlethom’s brows rose. “I see you had your own doubts, too. You must have noticed how they interact, all of the secret meetings, messages flying to and fro. Why would an agency representative be so involved in Lord Steele’s personal business?”

Littlethom pointed his finger to the ceiling. “You’re a smart woman; you must have noticed how strange this all is. But now you must be asking yourself the real questions—why would a knighted gentleman be pretending to work for an employment agency and why would he be so intimately involved with Steele?”

Littlethom was right—she was asking herself those very questions.

Triumphantly he declared, “Because he’s in league with Steele! They planned this whole devious plot together!”

In the glow of the candlelight, the tutor’s handsome face shone with fervor. “Sir Lee brought Benbrook to London in the first instance. He eliminated any servants who’d known the family before and made sure to bring in people who would be beholden to him for the job. People who had”—he coughed into his fist and gave a rueful smile—“less than stellar references…or perhaps were missing letters of reference all together.”

He opened his hands. “Not that I am making any judgments on you, Miss West. I made it my business to learn all of the particulars of that terrible Byrnwyck affair…The scandalous gossip follows you like a rotten stench that will not go away. You are forever tainted as the grasping governess who tried to snare the lord’s son by lifting her skirts…”

Inside she cringed. But she kept her face fixed.

Littlethom shook his head. “I assure you I don’t believe a word of it. You could never be so cold-blooded. You must have truly believed that he loved you.”

At the look on her face, he cried, “You did! You believed that he would marry you!”

She clenched her teeth as her cheeks burned.

Littlethom tsked. “Noblemen…they often don’t have a noble bone in their bodies. And knowing your disgraceful history, Steele probably thought he’d found himself a little sweetener to go with his plan. I only pray that you didn’t fall for his honeyed words and outrageous lies.

“But I stray from the real topic,” he went on. “The whole Byrnwyck scandal left you in a terrible coil—forever. You will always be missing that reference
and be scandalously tainted. Which is why Sir Lee selected you. He wanted someone who desperately needed the position, someone who would not speak out if things were a bit…unusual.”

Scratching his temple, he sniffed. “But he underestimated you, Miss West. He did not count on your kindness to others and your inherent goodness. I do, and feel that you deserve to know the truth behind this terrible business.”

Stepping forward, he extended the documents toward her. “Go on, see for yourself that all I say is true. You be the judge.”

With her heart racing and her mouth dry as dust, Abigail reached out and snatched the vellum from his hands. Quickly she returned to her post before the side door, glaring at the men, making sure that they did not make any moves toward her.

Unrolling the document, she angled it so that she could catch the light of the nearby candle, read the pages, and watch the two men at the same time.

Abigail blinked, shocked that the documents were as he said.

Littlethom winced. “I know it’s disappointing when someone you admire turns out to be a scoundrel, but the facts are as I describe them. Steele has placed those sweet, innocent boys in danger purely to further his own ambitions. The man’s a lowly crook dressing himself in airs and titles. And recently I learned the most astonishingly shocking thing of all about the
superior
Lord Steele!”

Curling his finger, Littlethom leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “Those friends of his from Dorset; Cutler, I think their name is…Well, they
were foxed in a tavern the other night, crowing about how they dress up in black”—he waved a hand at his chin—“wear these masks over their faces, and use fancy iron-topped tipstaffs to prance about at night brawling!”

Abigail felt the color drain from her face and her stomach drop.

Littlethom nodded. “It’s true! They went on and on about all of the fighting they do, the blood, the guts, the gore…and the worst of it is…Steele must be one of them! He was raised by them; they call him brother! And I have it on good authority, from Steele’s former butler, Carlton, that Steele is out at all hours of the night, and hardly has any evening attire to repair or clean! The man’s a gutter ruffian! No wonder he’s so cavalier about killing two boys!”

Abigail felt ill. Her mind was spinning, her insides clenched. She looked up at Littlethom. “So much of what you say bears the color of truth; it cannot be denied.”

Littlethom beamed. “You’re a smart woman, Miss West, and I applaud you.”

“So you are going to let us go?”

Biting his lower lip, Littlethom bridged his hands. “I cannot in good conscience allow the boys to go back to Steele; it’s too dangerous. I’m going to take them to a safe place where they will be protected from his evil designs.”

“And me?”

“You are free to go. You and your brother.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Lucifer’s letting Reggie go?”

“I arranged for it. But I was hoping”—his smile
was self-effacing—“that you would join me…to where I take the boys, of course.”

“Why would you do so many kind things for me and my brother? I don’t understand.”

Littlethom’s eyes darkened and his voice deepened. “Is it not patently clear, my dear? I admire you. I find you so
deliciously
appealing…I cannot get you out of my mind.”

Licking his lips, he stepped forward. “I would not protest if you chose to demonstrate your gratitude…”

“I’ll show you my gratitude,” she cried, tossing the papers at his face, grabbing the candlestick from the table, and whipping it around so that the candle flew out and she slammed the metal against his temple.

Nigel Littlethom dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

With her heart racing, Abigail quickly stepped on the wick of the candle, snuffing it out.

The brute by window showed no surprise as he slowly unlocked his hands. His eyes fixed on her, cool, unemotional, and
terrifying
.

She raised the candlestick high over her head. Her arm quaked but her resolve never wavered.

Suddenly the brute’s eyes widened. Arching his back, he gasped. He moved forward one booming step, then another, then he collapsed to the floor.

The hilt of a knife stuck out of his back.

Her heart was in her throat as she leaned forward, trying to grasp what had happened.

“Are you all right?” a male voice whispered.

She looked around the room, but it was empty.

At the opening of the window, two eyes appeared.

Oh my God!

The masked gentleman hung outside the window.

Grabbing the black fabric at his mouth, he pulled it low, exposing a face so stunningly familiar, Abigail’s heart leaped. “It’s me, Steele. Tell me you’re all right!”

Dumbly she nodded.

“Are the boys all right?”

She nodded.

“Are they in the room behind you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“With the chain hammered on, I can’t open the window from this side. Do you have something that you can use to wedge it open?”

Lowering the candlestick, she walked over to the window and thrust it through the opening. “Get out of the way.”

His face disappeared.

Leaning to the left, she wedged the candlestick against the wood, pushing hard. The chain squealed in protest and the candlestick began to bend. Then suddenly one end of the chain broke free from the wood and the window flew open. Steele caught it before it slammed against the outer wall.

Abigail stepped back.

Steele climbed through the opening, black boots, black breeches, black cloak, iron-headed tipstaff, and all. His face was set with determination, his eyes dark with purpose.

Quickly he strode across the room and opened the door to where the boys slept.

He peered inside.

Letting out a deep breath, he leaned against the
doorpost, his face filled with relief. After a moment he looked over at her. Then he closed the door.

Stepping over to her, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close. She fell into his embrace, her heart still hammering, her mind still spinning. His brawny arms held her as if he’d never let her go, making her feel cherished, making her feel safe.

Steele pressed his face into her hair. “Why didn’t you believe him?”

“I did.” Her voice was muffled as he held her close against his muscled chest.

Releasing her slightly, Steele looked down into her eyes, searching for the revulsion and anger and rejection he feared.

“Much of what he said was truth,” she explained, her lovely face filled with earnestness. “The parts about Byrnwyck, Mr. Linder-Myer, you asking to be Benbrook’s heir…”

“Then why—”

“No matter the truth of it all, everything he said was predicated on the notion that you would intentionally harm Seth and Felix.” She said it with such utter confidence, his heart swelled. “I may not be a good judge of men when it comes to how they feel about me, but when it comes to my children, I have no doubts.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to understand the amazing woman in his arms. All he understood was one basic truth. “I love you.”

She blinked, the shock clear in her eyes.

“You don’t know that?” he asked with wonder.

Mutely she shook her head.

“You are able to discern the most significant truths
about the people around you but have no idea that I adore you with all my heart?”

Her eyes suddenly shone with unshed tears, but he could still see the doubt lingering within them. He hugged her close. She fit him so perfectly as if made for him. “I swear I love you, Abigail West, more than I’ve ever loved any woman in all my life.”

The door flew open and Gabriel flew into the room in his Sentinel’s attire, followed by Andrew at his heels.

“Ah! Things seem to be well under control here,” Gabriel cried, lowering his tipstaff.

The man on the floor groaned.

Gabriel stepped forward, peering down. “This is Devonshire?”

Steele nodded. “The bugger himself.”

Abigail blinked. “Devonshire? No, that’s Mr. Littlethom.”

Gabriel laughed. “Little Thom, eh!”

Looking up at Steele, Abigail’s gaze was confused.

He laid his hand to her cheek. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll explain everything. But first we have to get you and the boys out of here safely.” He turned to Gabriel. “How many are there and what’s the best exit?”

Gabriel waved his tipstaff. “It was so kind of you to arrange all this fun on our behalf, but the devils have run off like the chickenhearted knaves they are.”