I lowered the gun. “Only if I find her unharmed. And you do nothing like this ever again.”
The woman gazed at the other two females. After a silent agreement passed between them, she inclined her head. “We will take that bargain.”
“Tell me,” I said. “Now!”
“A man blocked her way when she tried to leave the lavatory. And then his henchman showed up with the news his carriage was waiting at the stables. All three of them then took the back stairs. She did not go willingly.”
“What man?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know his name. But I’ve seen him before.”
That was enough. I caught her by the arm. “You’re coming with us.” I nodded to Finch. “All of you.” He secured the other two women as well.
The man who had been under my gun found his voice again. “And what am I meant to tell the men downstairs?” he demanded, desperation edging his tone. “They’re waiting for the entertainment. What am I supposed to do?”
“If I were you,” I said evenly, “I would make myself as scarce as possible.”
His eyes widened.
“They might hang you otherwise.”
He wasted no time acting on my advice and disappeared down the corridor.
We took a different set of back stairs than the ones we’d climbed before—a narrower servants’ stair on the opposite side of the house meant for discreet comings and goings. We descended at speed, our boots muffled by age and grime, and slipped out through a side door that opened onto a path that led to the stables.
As we approached, a stable hand looked up from where he was checking a harness, startled by our sudden appearance.
I crossed the distance in two strides. “A gentleman left not long ago,” I said. “Had a carriage waiting. Was there a lady with him?”
The man’s eyes widened, but he did not hesitate. “No, sir. No lady.”
“You’re certain,” I said. “She wore a red cape.”
He shook his head, earnest and frightened now. “I’d have noticed, sir. Only the gentleman. He arrived alone and left at once.”
The denial landed like a blow. If she had not left by carriage, she was still on the grounds. And running out of time.
A voice rose from deeper within. “I saw her.”
We turned as one. Another stable hand stood near the far stall, half in shadow, his pitchfork forgotten in his grip.
“I saw her,” he said. “A lady in a red cape. She didn’t go with the gentleman.”
I stepped toward him. “Go on.”
“One of his men took her,” he said. “Dragged her off. Toward the river.” He hesitated, then added, “She was screaming bloody murder, she was.”
The words froze my blood. I had seen what they did to women there. What the water was meant to erase. I grabbed his shirt. “And you didn’t stop them?”
“Not the first time a man has dragged off a mort. That’s what they do. It’s a game to them.”
“This was no bloody game.” I shook him so hard his teeth rattled.
His eyes bulged from his head. “How was I supposed to know?”
“Steele,” Finch said, a reminder of what was important. Finding Rosalynd.
“Which way did they go?” I demanded of the stable hand.
