“Marius found the governess. She’s Davenport’s mistress and his accomplice,” Gabriel said grimly. “I’ll explain everything in the carriage. We need to get back to Strathaven’s immediately.”
***
As they pulled up in front of the duke’s residence, Gabriel knew something was wrong. The door was open; servants and men in uniform were milling about. He hit the ground running before the wheels came to a complete stop. He shouldered his way through the small throng and saw Strathaven and the duchess standing in the foyer.
The duke was giving orders to a circle of men. Runner types. Beside him, the duchess was pale, her face etched with worry.
“Where are Thea and Freddy?” The words left Gabriel in a shout.
“Tremont, you’re back.” Strathaven strode toward him, put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk in my study where it’s calmer—”
“Tell me what the hell happened.”
“They were taken.” This came from the duchess. “Sometime this afternoon. They were on their way to Marianne’s, and from what we’ve been able to piece together from witnesses, an unmarked carriage pulled up and shot the two footmen who were accompanying them. Thea and Freddy were grabbed.” Her voice hitched, and the duke’s arm circled her shoulders. “We don’t know who’s behind this or where they’ve been taken.”
“Davenport.” Blood was rushing through Gabriel’s ears. “He’s the Spectre.”
“What?” Strathaven and the duchess said as one.
Images bombarded him of Thea and Freddy, locked away in some hellhole. His beloved fighting for her breath, his son falling... Gabriel shook off his panic.
They’re strong; they’ll manage until you get there. Focus on getting them back.
“Gather everyone in your study. We’re going to rescue Thea and Freddy from the Spectre,” he said in clipped tones, “and every bloody minute counts.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
With Freddy’s head cradled in her lap, Thea took stock of the ominous situation. The boy was still unconscious from the noxious substance in the handkerchiefs that had been pressed over their faces during the abduction. She had regained her senses about a quarter hour ago and still felt woozy from the aftereffects. She had no idea how much time had passed, how long that carriage ride had been, or where they’d been taken.
At present, there was only the small, windowless room. The darkness suggested that they were in a basement. Both she and Freddy had metal cuffs on their ankles, with heavy chains connecting them to an iron ring in the wall. They sat on a thin pallet of straw, and her skin crawled at the skittering beneath her skirts.
Don’t panic. Try to figure out where you are.
Squinting into the dimness, she made out a small brick-lined alcove darkened with ash. A cooking area. This had functioned as a kitchen at one time. Sniffing now, she picked up the scent of stale grease and coal smoke steeped into the wooden walls. There was another smell in the air… brackish like seawater and sewage. She heard muffled, distant sounds from beyond the room. A boat’s horn, perhaps? Were they near the Thames? But it didn’t sound like the city; the hush here was different from the cacophony of London.
Freddy’s head shifted. His eyelashes fluttered, his unfocused eyes looking up at her.
Relief spread through Thea. “Are you all right, dear?”
“What h-happened?” he said groggily.
“We were taken. I don’t know by whom.” Feeling him tremble, she stroked his little freckled cheek. “I know it’s frightening, dear, but we mustn’t give into fear. We must focus on getting out of here. Your papa and my brother are surely on their way to find us.”
Freddy nodded, wide-eyed.
“Now do you think you can sit up?” she asked.
“I—I think so.”
With her assistance, he managed to prop himself up against the wall.
“Good job, dear. Now I’m going to take a look around the room, all right? You can help me by trying to see if there’s any way out of here.”
Getting to her feet, she walked the short perimeter of the chamber, no more than ten feet on each side. She tried to move as stealthily as possible to minimize the telltale clinking of the chain. She placed her palms on the walls; they were solid wood and thick. As far as she could tell, the only way out of the room was through the door, and she could hear the heavy footfalls of someone just outside. A guard, probably. Even if they could somehow get through the door, she hadn’t a chance of getting past a cutthroat.
As she stood there, despairing, a slight whistling sound caught her ear. At first, she thought she might be imagining it, but then it came again. Low and mournful as a funeral march.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered to Freddy.
