The Duke Who Knew Too Much (31 page)

Alaric didn’t detect any falsehoods. “Why did your arrangement with Mercer end?”

“Money,” she said succinctly. “Specifically, his lack thereof. Some conniver bilked him of his fortune—he’d turn apoplectic whenever he talked about it.”

Alaric exchanged grim glances with the other men. Apparently Mercer had rewritten history to make himself out to be the victim—perhaps he even believed his own false tales, used them to justify all the evil that he’d done. There was no telling what such a man was capable of.

Urgency and frustration filled him. He had to find Mercer, put an end to this chaos.

Then he could start a new life with Emma.

Her poise returning, Miss Germaine said coyly, “Being as selective as I am about my friendships, it has not been easy to find a truly rich and powerful patron.”

“I wish you luck.” Bridling with impatience, Alaric rose. “Thank you for your time.”

“Leaving so soon? Perhaps you’d like some refreshment—”

A pounding sounded on the front door. A minute later, Cooper entered the room, and Alaric’s insides chilled when he saw the bleak set of the guard’s features.

“What is it, Cooper?” he said.

“Mercer’s kidnapped Miss Kent and the dowager,” the guard said tersely, holding out a note. “He’s demanding ransom.”

***

The world came slowly into view. In the dim light, Emma made out wooden walls, a shuttered window, a table and stool … she was in a tiny cabin of some sort. And it was ... rocking?

Where am I?

Emma registered that she was laying on a cot. She managed to sit up and get woozily to her feet. She stumbled a few steps, heard the clanking of metal, felt a jerk on her ankle. Looking down, she saw that a manacle and short chain anchored her right foot to the bed.

She and the dowager had been
kidnapped
.

Memories returned in hazy snippets, accompanied by the sweet, sickening scent of ether. A carriage ride through darkness. Being hauled up a gangway … Yes, she could smell the tang of sea air now. She was on a ship.

Dear God, where was Lady Patrice?

A faint sound made her look up. There was a bunk above her own, a small figure upon it. Standing on her tiptoes, Emma verified with relief that it was indeed the dowager. Other than the rise and fall of her thin chest, the lady lay still as death, the stone of her ring gleaming like blood upon her waxen hand.

“Lady Patrice,” Emma whispered urgently.

No reply. The poor thing was heavily drugged. The bastards—how could they treat a defenseless elderly woman in this despicable manner?

Footsteps approached. Before Emma could return to the cot, the door opened, and a tall blond man holding a lamp stepped inside. As he set the light on the table, its flickering glow gave his handsome face a demonic cast. His cravat was elegantly knotted, his wool overcoat lavishly embroidered. She recognized him from the Blackwood ball—one of the men who had disparaged Alaric’s venture.

“You’re Lord Mercer,” she said, her gaze narrowing.

He smiled thinly and bowed. “Welcome aboard my vessel, Miss Kent.”

“You had better release us this instant.” She angled her chin up. “If you don’t, you’ll regret being born when Strathaven and my brother find us. And I promise you they will.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, Miss Kent. You are my insurance, you see, and my ticket to a new life. I’ve been watching Strathaven, and I know he’ll do anything to have you.” Mercer smirked. “That is, if he hasn’t already had you.”

Emma stumbled back when Mercer came toward her, trapping her against the frame of the bed. His pungent cologne wound into her nostrils, and she shrank away, her skin crawling as he pressed himself up against her.

“I wonder,” he said, his breath hot against her cheek, “what talents could a country miss possess to enthrall a man like Strathaven? I have a mind to see for myself.”

“Get away from me, you bounder!”

Her lungs seized as he fingered a fallen tress of her hair. She felt a revolting poke against her thigh, the thing hard and … sharp? The realization struck her: the object prodding her wasn’t his manhood—but a ...
key
.

He let her go. “Time to sample your charms later. For now,” he said with a sneer, “I have a welcome to prepare for your erstwhile duke. He should be arriving anytime now.”

Emma thought quickly. “He won’t fall into your trap. He’s too clever for that.”

Mercer turned a livid shade. “He’ll dance like a puppet on strings if he wants you and his aunt alive.” His manicured fingers curled like claws. “
I
am dictating the terms now—not him.”

Sensing the crazed fury beneath the polished facade, Emma knew she’d hit upon his weakness. She had to use his vanity to her advantage.
Just have to get him closer …

“Strathaven is going to crush you,” she taunted. “You don’t stand a chance.”

She yelped when Mercer grabbed her by the hair. He yanked hard, jerking her face up, forcing her to meet his eyes, which were dilated with fury. She feigned fear, twisting as if to get away from him, angling her hand toward the pocket of his overcoat …

“Shut your mouth, bitch,” he spat. “If it weren’t for the interfering bastard, I’d be a rich man by now. My scheme was brilliant; I stood to make a
fortune
. But Strathaven ruined it all. Thanks to him, not only did I lose my money—now I have Billings’ underworld criminals after my blood.”

“It’s your own fault.”
Almost there … keep him distracted …
“You made a bad business decision. You compounded that by trying to murder Strathaven—and by killing Silas Webb.”

“Webb was a spineless fool. He didn’t have the stomach for greatness and would have given me up when he was caught. No,” Mercer said craftily, “Webb left me no choice.”

“What about Strathaven? It’s not his fault you took a reckless risk.”

“
Everything
is his fault!” Mercer’s eyes were reptilian with hate, his words hissing. He pushed his face into hers just as her fingers closed around metal. “He left me no resort but to flee like some common criminal. Well, he’s going to pay to the tune of fifty thousand pounds. If he doesn’t, I’ll send you and his aunt back to him—piece by lovely piece.”

Heart hammering, Emma let her shoulders sag as if in defeat; at the same time, her hand slipped behind her back, clutching her prize. “You really have thought of everything.”

“I will be victorious. Like a phoenix, I will rise from the ashes on French soil. Who knows?” A nasty gleam lit Mercer’s eyes. “If you please me, I might keep you alive to see to my pleasures.”

Emma swallowed. “But I thought … aren’t you going to ransom me?”

Mercer’s laugh was short and brutal. “I’m going to get my money. And then I’m going to put an end to Strathaven once and for all.”

“You’re a dishonorable cad!” she cried. “Strathaven is smarter than you—he’ll never fall for your trap!”

Mercer shoved her violently onto the cot, her back smacking the thin mattress. Panting, she kept a firm grip on her stolen treasure.

“He already has, you little whore. He’ll bring me my blunt at nine o’clock sharp—and I’ll put a hole through his heart,” Mercer snarled. “And after I deal with him, I’ll be back for you.”

The door slammed behind him, his barked order filtering through. “No one goes in or out—see to that by any means necessary.”

“Wif pleasure, m’lord,” replied a leering voice.

Instantly, Emma sat up. Looked at the key in her hand. Sending up a prayer, she reached for the manacle on her foot.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Alaric and the other men reached the appointed destination before dawn. He’d rented out two stage coaches to convey the team of investigators and guards from London to Portsmouth at record speed, so that they could arrive a few hours prior to the meeting with Mercer. Will and his comrades had already taken off on a scouting mission. Disguised as porters, the four ex-soldiers were presently conducting reconnaissance on the dock.

Their goals: to find Mercer’s vessel and locate Emma and Patrice.

In the meantime, Alaric and Kent took a suite at an inn. They were guarding the trunks of ransom money and awaiting the arrival of some mysterious associate Kent had said might be helpful to the cause. From the second floor balcony, Alaric watched the ribaldry in the street below. How clever of Mercer to choose this place to conduct his nefarious business.

With all the lawlessness and depravity going on, who would care about two women being held against their will? Who would even notice?

Outside the gate of the old town, Portsmouth Point was known as “Spice Island,” not only for the scent of imported spices that came from the harbor but also for the piquant activities so clearly on display. Whores plied their trade openly in the alleys, sailors and dockhands stumbled in and out of the public houses that lined both sides of the street. Brawls broke out with regularity, cheered on by drunken bystanders.

Alaric’s hands fisted with impotence.
If Mercer so much as touches a hair on Emma’s head ...
He was unwilling to contemplate that possibility. He was going to get her and his aunt back. Then he was going to tear the earl apart limb by limb.

Slowly.

Kent came to stand beside him. “McLeod will find my sister and your aunt. He’s the best there is when it comes to scouting.”

“Aye. But time is running out.” Alaric gave a terse nod at the sky over the harbor.

Already, the horizon was losing its dark opacity. He could make out the forest of masts bobbing on the black water and the fleet of small barges that zipped between the larger ships, ferrying passengers and goods back and forth from the docks. The Byzantine activity of the scene frustrated him further. Which one of those hundreds of ships held Emma and Aunt Patrice prisoner? What was Mercer’s ultimate plan?

“We should review the strategy for the exchange. I still don’t like the idea of you meeting the villain alone,” Kent said.

“Mercer made it clear in the ransom note that I’m to follow his instructions to the letter,” Alaric said starkly. “If I don’t bring the gold to the quay alone and unarmed at nine o’clock, he’s going to kill Emma and Patrice. I won’t take that risk.”

“He might kill them anyway. You as well.”

Alaric saw emotion flare in the other man’s eyes. Fear. Fury. The same feelings that ran molten through his own veins.

“Whatever it takes, I will see your sister safe,” he vowed. “It’s me Mercer wants.”

“You’d trade your life for Emma’s?”

“Whatever it takes,” he repeated.

Kent studied him for a moment. “My wife was right after all.”

“About what?”

“You truly do care for Emma.”

Alaric’s cheekbones heated. He felt suddenly exposed—and he didn’t like it. “I told you my intentions were honorable,” he said stiffly.

“There’s a difference between an honorable marriage and a loving one.”

A knock on the door cut short the conversation. Alaric tensed.

Kent checked his watch. “Right on time.”

The investigator opened the door and ushered in a fellow dressed in the loose jacket and trousers of a man who worked on the water. The newcomer’s most distinguishable feature was the curly auburn hair beneath his cap. His freckled face split into a grin. He and Kent exchanged bows—and then slapped each other on the back like old friends.

“As I live and breathe, six years and you don’t look any different, sir. Except your clothes—quite dapper now, ain’t you?” The stranger winked. “Told you a wife would do you good, didn’t I?”

“Indeed you did, old friend,” Kent said with a faint smile. “But time to reminisce later. As I mentioned in my message, I’m afraid I’m here on urgent business.”

“I’m at your service, sir.”

“I’m deeply grateful to hear it.” Kent turned to Alaric. “Your grace, this is John Oldman, a former colleague of mine at the Thames River Police. He moved to Portsmouth six years ago.”

“Call me Johnno. Everyone does,” the man said cheerfully.

“I beg your pardon,” Alaric said, “but how is it that you’re to help us?”

“Kent says you need a way to hide in plain sight on the water. I can provide that.”

“How?”

“Johnno and his brother-in-law operate one of the largest barge services here in Portsmouth,” Kent explained. “A third of the barges that travel between ship and shore are theirs. With Johnno’s help, we’ll surround the quay where you’re to meet Mercer.” The investigator’s eyes burned with a fierce light. “Unbeknownst to that blackguard, we’ll block his escape route. We’ll capture him—and get Emma and the dowager back.”

***

Finally, Lady Patrice stirred.

Emma had begun to lose hope, her desperation mounting as pale light seeped through the shutters of the window. She could hear the activity above, the shouts and heavy bootsteps as the villains readied themselves for Alaric’s arrival.

For the ambush.

She had to free herself and Lady Patrice before Alaric arrived. Before he fell into Mercer’s deadly clutches.

“Lady Patrice,” she said as loud as she dared, “please, open your eyes.”

The dowager’s lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. Slowly, her head turned toward Emma. “Miss Kent? Where—where are we?” she said in a trembling, befuddled voice. “What has happened?”

Emma wanted to weep with relief. Instead, she said in calm tones, “We’ve been kidnapped, your grace. Mercer is holding us hostage—and he means to kill Strathaven when he brings the ransom money. We must stop the villain, and I need your help.”

“Kill Strathaven?” Lady Patrice pushed herself to sitting and though she weaved a little, she said firmly, “We cannot allow that to happen. Tell me what you want me to do.”

***

“Remember we’ll be watching from the barges,” Will said. “One wrong move from Mercer and we’ll move in, cut off his escape.”

“Aye,” Alaric said.

The two of them were standing on the quay Mercer had designated for the exchange. Besides him and Will and the trunks of ransom, the dock was abandoned, positioned within a small isolated cove. Near the entrance of the cove, he saw two of Johnno’s vessels patrolling the waters. They appeared like the other ubiquitous barges, and he prayed that Mercer would be fooled.