She knew thetonand her uncle considered the circumstances of her birth a public embarrassment. But she also knew she was an intelligent woman worthy of care and respect. She refused to give in to the ugly forces bent on destroying her.
Arnaud entered the far west environs of London, passing by Hyde Park Corner and Apsley House. He headed on east toward St. James Square and Howick House. He’d had hours to think about who might have attempted to kill him and had determined a course of action.
But first, he had to deal with Sophie. He had to see for himself she was still safe and get reports from his men on how they’d fared in the week since someone had tried to end his life. He could no longer lie abed in the country at Sir Thomas’s estate and be coddled by his mother and Dr. MacCloud. Whoever intended Sophie harm had become desperate. They’d tried to take her from a barrister’s estate full of armed guards.
After he’d satisfied himself Sophie was safe, he would re-visit the street urchins off Piccadilly who’d been selling what they knew to the highest bidder. It was time to rattle them a bit and see what they might cough up. He also intended to go back to Seaton’s landlord and question her son. He had a hunch the lad knew more than he was willing to say the last time they’d talked.
And then there was Sophie. He knew her life was none of his business, but he needed to see her face-to-face when he asked the question that had seared his soul throughout his week’s convalescence. Was she truly happy with the decision she’d made to accept Sir Thomas’s suit?
Sophie woke with a trickle of blood running down her forehead and a small lump on her head. The last she remembered, she’d slashed the back of the hand of the man who’d tried to snatch her out of the carriage when they’d pulled up near a berth at the London docks. A merchant ship bobbed alongside with the lapping of the incoming tide. Dock workers wheeled carts laden with provisions up wide wooden gangways onto the ship. Sailors bustled at chores on deck in preparation for the ship’s departure, probably as soon as the tide began the surge back out to sea.
After she’d gouged the man’s hand, he’d slammed something into the side of her head, and she’d seen nothing more until waking up in a minuscule cabin on an uncomfortable wooden bunk with a thin straw pallet. A slop bucket in the corner was the only other furnishing. Since she’d lashed out first with her faithful hat pins, the man had confiscated her parasol. After he’d sworn at her and jerked her out of the carriage, she’d hoped one of the sailors would come to her assistance, but all of them pretended not to notice a woman being forced aboard their ship.
The cabin had no porthole, but a small sliver of light shone beneath the door. Carts periodically rumbled past, so she assumed she was being held somewhere along the passageway to the hold of the ship. Sophie tried to ignore the frequent rustlings inside the cabin. She refused to consider what sort of creatures might be making the noise.
The sight that greeted Arnaud at Howick House was not encouraging. When the butler ushered him into the first-floor sitting room, Lord Howick, as well as all three of Arnaud’s men at guard duty - Captain Neville, Lieutenant Bourne, and his valet, Artemis, waited for him. And they all stood with ashen faces. His chest might as well have been flat. His heart had shrunk to nothing.
The curt question, “Where is she?”, tore from his lips like a cannon broadside.
Lord Howick was the first to speak. “We don’t know, but Sergeant Randall, my men, and runners from Bow Street are all over town. We’ll open every door, turn over every rock. She can’t have gone far, and a woman like Sophie…” his voice broke. “To see her once is to remember her. Artemis has drawn a number of sketches we’ve been circulating.” Arnaud’s valet nodded.
“Where is Lady Lydia? Surely she remembers something.” Arnaud’s voice trembled slightly.
George Neville spoke first. “All she knows is Sophie was adamant there was something she had to do, and she had to sneak out for an hour on her own to do it. She would not tell Lydia where she was going.” Howick quirked an eyebrow at Neville, but did not contradict his version of Lydia’s confession.
“When did you discover she was missing?” Arnaud’s words punched out like gunshots.
“After an hour passed and Sophie hadn’t returned, Lydia came to me with Captain Neville to reveal what she knew.” Lord Howick sat down hard onto the striped silk settee in the corner of the sitting room and reached for his pipe. “Apparently, she slipped out of the house through the tradesmen’s entrance when everyone was busy in the kitchen.”
Neville came close to Arnaud and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Tell us what you want us to do. We will not sleep until she’s found.” Bourne and Artemis fell in behind the marine captain, as if waiting for orders.
Arnaud surveyed his loyal men, and his tension eased a bit. Together, they’d done the impossible before. They would do it again. He would not contemplate failure.
He turned and motioned for them to follow. When Lord Howick made as if he’d fall in with them, Arnaud said, “Many thanks, my lord, but your strengths can serve us better by staying here to manage the lads you’ve sent searching.”
Howick followed them to the door and gave a slight salute before they spilled out onto the road around St. James Square.
“Where are we headed, Captain?” Neville kept pace with Arnaud and whistled after he took a long look at the bandage dressing circling Arnaud’s head. “Are you sure you’re well enough for this sortie?”
“It’s just a scratch.” Arnaud gave the bandage a tentative touch where the bleeding was worst when he overdid. “Still dry.” He motioned for the others to stop for a moment when they reached York Street. “We’ll go up to Piccadilly, spread out, and look for those street sweep urchins. They sell what they know to the highest bidder, and I mean to extract all they know about the ‘nob’ they said has been seeking information on Sophie.”
“How will we know we’ve found the right sweeps?” Bourne’s forehead furrowed in a frown.
“You won’t have to find them. They’ll find you if you linger long enough and look as if you’ve got the blunt to pay for what they know. Mention my name. They’ll remember all the coin I’ve passed along this street.” Arnaud couldn’t help smiling, the first time since he’d discovered Sophie was missing.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After a wretched dayin the cramped cabin, Sophie had a feeling for the routine of the ship’s crew. They’d brought her breakfast porridge and watery tea at exactly nine bells, a thin soup at twelve bells, and a bit more substantial tea at four.
The crewman who brought meals and emptied the crude slop bucket in the corner had demanded she turn over her pendant watch to him the first time he entered the cabin. He insinuated things would not go well for her if she resisted.
She did not even bother to demand to see the captain. She was sure her uncle had paid him well to make her disappear. She was curious, however, as to where the ship was headed. Why her uncle did not simply have her killed and dumped into the Thames was a mystery. Why all the subterfuge? Surely the man was devoid of any conscience.
The constant movement of carts loaded with provisions and cargo had abated somewhat, which boded an ominous possibility. The ship was prepared to sail soon, perhaps at the next tide. Each time the crewman entered the cabin, she tried to put forth a shy, fearful demeanor. Would not do to make him think she still plotted an escape. The first time she’d fought back, retribution had been swift and violent. She would not make that mistake again.
Her afternoon tea had been even more bitter than the early morning version. And now she was tired and feverish. Her last thought before she passed out on her bunk was that her uncle had more backbone than she’d thought. He’d finally given the order to have her poisoned.
Once Arnaud had his men spread out along Piccadilly to look for the young street sweeps, he moved quickly west at a trot toward Seaton’s old boarding house. This time he would not be put off by Mrs. Lambert’s son. Hewouldget to the bottom of how Seaton had plotted with the cabal of thieves bent on destroying Sophie.
