Her eyes were panicked. “We should have been watching the docks instead of the crescents…”
Jacob pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He couldimagine her terror. Vivian hadlivedthe nightmare. She knew exactly what would await her cousin.
Jacob couldn’t allow that to happen.
“We’ll find him,” he promised, his voice rough against the back of her ear. “I understand why that would be your worst fear, but remember, there is no evidence to indicate Quentin is no longer in the area. He was here to give that thumbprint.”
Over her shoulder, Jacob exchanged urgent glances with his brother, who nodded to signal he’d deploy any spare spies he could find to lift every rock and check every ship’s manifest.
“It sounds crass,” Graham said softly, “but your cousin loses value as a hostage if he cannot easily be produced for the ransom. We have every reason to believe he’s still in England, and probably here in London. Possibly at an accomplice’s residence. Wewillfind him. It’s only a matter of time.”
Jacob murmured, “And the moment the kidnapper mentions a price for ransom, we’ll pay it and make the exchange at once. Quentin’s safety is our priority.”
Vivian shuddered in Jacob’s arms, then went still for a long moment before straightening away from him.
She gave a stoic nod. “You’re right. Iknowyou’re right. Emotions can overtake my heart, but my brain still recognizes logic. Leisterdale wants a certain act to pass before he asks for ransom money, and until he achieves that goal, it’s in his best interest to keep my cousin healthy and close by. We don’t know how much time that gives us, but Quentin should still be alive… for now.”
Jacob held her hand in his, rubbing the soft warm skin with his thumb.
Vivian flashed him a grateful smile. As the horses clopped along, her spine regained its straightness. The panic melted away, replaced by what Jacob had come to think of as herplotting furiouslyexpression. The Wynchesters might be worn thin, but Vivian carried a one-woman Planning Parlor in her brain at all times. If there were any overlooked clues, Vivian would spot them.
When the carriage reached Islington, the available family members piled out of the home and jogged up to the carriage in the hopes of being the first to welcome Quentin.
Vivian remained silent while Jacob explained why they didn’t have him.
Marjorie took one look at her face and hugged her.
“Let’s go indoors.” Elizabeth gestured toward the sky. “It’s going to rain.”
“And Cook made lime biscuits,” said Marjorie.
Graham blinked at her. “Lime?”
Vivian spun to stare at Jacob. “Like the ones my mother made in Demerara?”
“I hope they resemble them a little bit. I don’t have a recipe.”
“Then how did you know—”
“You mention them no less than seven times in your plays. I figured they had to be your favorites. Cook tried her best, but if they’re not quite right, I do hope you’ll forgive me.”
Vivian threw her arms about him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “You’re trying. I see you trying. I appreciate all of your efforts.”
You’re tryingwas not quite the same asYou’re achieving your goal of making me happy, but he hoped it was at least progress in the right direction.
He held her close for as long as she let him.
When they stepped into the siblings’ sitting room, Philippa waved a hand toward the table. “Jacob, I almost forgot. Some post came for you while you were out.”
Jacob sifted through the pile of correspondence, his spirits rising. He tossed all but one of the letters aside, then broke the seal andscanned the contents. What he read inside made his heart attempt to burst from his chest.
“Vivian,” he began, trying and failing to contain his excitement.
Her eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“Nothing bad,” he said quickly. “Something wonderful. Your dramatic play about suffrage reform will be produced on Drury Lane!”
Huzzahs of joy rang around the room.
