‘Doesn’t he need to wed Mercy first?’ Patience asked.
‘He could quite easily do that in a tavern bedchamber,’ Max returned. ‘He’s probably had some soused priest on standby for a while. There are many less than scrupulous so-called servants of God who’ll do anything for their next bottle of communion wine.’
‘It’s a bit tenuous,’ Patience muttered, shaking her head.
‘You’re right love, it is - but it’s all we’ve got,’ Max retorted with a grimace.
Chastity gripped her husband’s arm. ‘You can’t go into the Docklands alone,’ she declared firmly. ‘We have to contact Jamie. He’ll be able to provide the men you need to assist you.’
Christian nodded. ‘But we dare not wait for him to muster his Runners. In the meantime, we need Adam and Gabriel.’ He looked down at his wife. ‘You and Patience take our carriage to Jamie and Prudence.’ He looked at the Viscount, who even in the dim light was beginning to resemble a corpse. ‘You too, Nate. Prudence will have the necessary materials to clean and dress the wound.’
Patience snorted. ‘As long as she doesn’t do the actual dressing. I doubt the Viscount will last the night after being ministered to by Pru.’
When Nate frowned and opened his mouth to protest, the Earl held up his hand. ‘You’re no use to me in this state, Harding,’ he ground out. ‘You know it and I know it. Get the wound dressed. You can fill Jamie in and join us once you’ve stopped damn well leaking.’ He looked over at Max.
‘We’ll take your carriage. Adam's house is the closest, I think. While we wait for him to dress, we can send a messenger to Gabe. Hopefully he’ll be ready for us by the time we get to him. With luck, we’ll be in the Docks before dark.
Chapter Twenty
Mercy had never been so terrified in her entire life. But it wasn’t for herself. The moment she heard the shot and saw Nate fall from the carriage would live with her forever. All she could think about was the sight of his body lying on the cobbles. His black evening dress had prevented her from seeing exactly where he’d been shot so she had no way of knowing whether he was dead or alive.
She looked at Reinhardt’s cold, impassive face and wanted to spit in it. It was the first time she’d actually seen him in the flesh and his hand on her arm made her skin crawl. As if in answer to her silent hatred, his grip tightened painfully on her arm.
There were two other men in the carriage with them – both clearly thugs for hire.
‘I don’t reckon I did more ‘an wing ‘im,’ the one with the gun said, shoving the pistol down his stained britches.
‘Well, you din’t get off two shots, Davy, so I’d watch where you put that if I wos you,’ the other man chortled, ‘Wi’ your aim, you’ll just as likely shoot yer baubles off – mind you, at least you won’t need to worry ‘bout meetin’ ol’ Derrick.’
‘If I swing, I’ll bloody take you wi’ me, Smiffy.’ Clearly there was no love lost between the two men.
Biting her lip, Mercy looked down at her lap. She needed to get a grip on her fear. She had to put Nate out of her mind. If the wretch was right, he’d only been wounded, not killed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. Watch, listen and take the first opportunity to run. That was the only way she’d get out of this.
She raised her head and looked out of the window. At first, she didn’t recognise where they were, but after a few minutes she realised they were heading for London Docks. A fresh surge of fear engulfed her. Obviously, Reinhardt intended to wed her, then board the first ship back to America.
But why did he want her so badly? Mercy had no illusions about herself. She was pretty, certainly, but hardly a diamond of the first water - and to come all the way from America… She glowered down at her knee. Likely her father was right – it was something to do with her mother. She sneaked a brief glance at her captor. Did she dare try and find out what? If she simply asked him, would he tell her? Then she berated herself. Now was not the time to find out what the blackguard wanted - He’d no doubt give it to her chapter and verse after they were leg shackled. She needed to be out of his clutches before that happened.
She looked back out of the window. Though Reinhardt still had hold of her arm, he’d relaxed his grip slightly. Nobody spoke and the atmosphere in the carriage was one of tense anticipation. Did he intend to wed her this night? She shoved down the sheer terror at the thought of what might follow after. The thought of sharing her captor’s bed made her feel physically sick.
Mercy became aware that they’d entered the Dockyard as the carriage took a sharp right, running alongside the wharfs. She took heart from the number of people still milling around the quayside, but then she realised that even though it was still relatively early in the evening, quite a few of them were Haymarket ware. If she cried for help, she’d be unlikely to receive it from that direction.
Biting her lip again, she did her best to memorise her surroundings, but gradually realised that all the wharfs looked the same. They passed warehouse after warehouse interspersed with pubs, lodging houses and pawnbrokers. Plenty of venders were still abroad peddling their goods – mostly foodstuffs by the look of things. If she appealed to any of them for assistance, would they be likely to give it? Surely there were dock police patrolling the area. Mayhap she could persuade one of them to run for help.
Mercy’s mind went in increasingly desperate circles as she sought a way out of her predicament, until finally she felt rather than saw the carriage slowing down. Her heart gave a dull thud as she attempted to see where they were.
Both henchmen shifted slightly, clearly getting ready to climb out of the carriage first. Mercy stiffened, then tried to relax, swallowing her increasing panic. She subtly shifted away from her captor, and to her surprise, he didn’t react, seemingly preoccupied by their arrival.
Heart slamming against her ribs, she tensed, getting ready to move as soon as the carriage stopped. Glancing over at Reinhardt she saw he was looking through the other window and with a thrill of terror, realised they were approaching a lodging house. It was now or never.
Without waiting for the carriage to come to a full stop, she leapt to her feet, grabbing hold of the door handle at the same time. Evidently not expecting her to make a run for it, Reinhardt hadn’t maintained a tight grip on her arm, and she was able to yank it free as she thrust open the door and leapt down. As soon as she landed, she picked up her skirts, kicked off her evening pumps, and ran.
She’d hoped to be able to lose herself in the myriad of alleys surrounding the buildings to the left, but to her horror, they’d stopped close to a wide-open area that looked as though it had recently been cleared after a fire. Swearing under her breath, she sobbed her frustration, hearing the unmistakable sound of her pursuers gaining on her. She wasn’t going to make it. There was an almost village sized collection of makeshift shops and stalls inside the open area, and turning towards them, she screamed for help.
To her horror, she was totally ignored. No one, absolutelyno onecame to her aid – not even challenging the two thugs who took hold her arms none too gently.
Mercedes sobbed softly as she was led back to her captor who was now regarding her like she was something less than human.
All fight had gone out of her, she let them pull her towards the lodging house. To her surprise, they didn’t take her through the front door, but into a narrow passageway to the side. White hot fear had her briefly fighting against the arms that held her, but a sudden back-handed slap across her face shocked her into silence.
