“Hear what?” he whispered back.
“A whistling sound.”
He shook his head.
Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and focused just on listening, the way she sometimes did during practice. She heard her own heartbeat, the shifting of the world outside—and there it was. That noise again. It was coming from… the cooking area.
She hurried over to the nook. Ashes formed a thick carpet on the ground, and the brick walls of the cove were darkened from years of exposure to a cooking fire.Fire, smoke… Her heart began to thud.It has to go out somewhere. Stepping carefully onto the hearth, she peered into the darkness above.
And there it was.
A thin board had been nailed over the old opening for the flue. It didn’t cover the hole completely, and the whistling sound came from the wind seeping in around the edges. She could see the thin lines of light above and below the board. Freedom was suddenly not as far away as it had seemed just a moment ago. The hole was set about six feet high—reachable if she could hoist Freddy onto her shoulders. She judged the opening just big enough for the boy to fit through… if they could pry the wood loose. And if Freddy wasn’t chained to the wall.
At that instant, she heard footsteps approaching. Men’s voices. She hurried back toward Freddy, plopping herself next to him just as the door creaked on its hinges. A man in a greatcoat walked in. She recognized him from the painting she’d seen in his study. In the light of the lamp he held, Davenport’s patrician features had a distinctly menacing cast. Two lackeys hovered behind him, roughly dressed, hyenas eager to scavenge.
“Miss Kent and young Master Ridgley,” Davenport said in polished accents, “I do apologize for the humble lodgings, but I’m afraid I ran short of time. Unexpected circumstances, you see. But never fear, we shall only be here shortly.”
Thea stood, her shoulders straight. “Why have you taken us, Lord Davenport?”
He showed no surprise that she knew his identity. Instead, he smiled, and a chill slithered down her spine. “Why, for your charming company of course.”
“If it’s money you want—”
“Oh, Idowant. But you, my dears, are even more valuable than gold.”
“Why?” Thea said.
“I have Trajan’s son and his fiancée as my guests.” The venom in Davenport’s voice injected her with paralyzing fear. “I’ll have him at my mercy and pay him back for ruining my plans.”
“You… you’re the Spectre?” she breathed.
His mouth curled. “My reputation precedes me, I see.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? You have position, status, wealth—”
“None of which will protect me when my secret is out. Octavian just wouldn’t give up, and Trajan was always an apple off the old tree. Because of them, I am going to lose the privileged life I’ve been leading. Since Octavian has already cashed his chips, so to speak, there’s only Trajan left to compensate me for my inconvenience.” His mouth curled with malice. “We travel soon.”
He turned, his black cape whirling behind him. His henchmen followed, casting covetous, hungry glances back. The door closed, and Thea felt the starch dissolve from her knees. She put a hand to the wall for support.
“Thea?” Freddy’s thin, frightened voice penetrated her daze.
She sank to her knees beside him. “I’m fine, Freddy.”
“Why did you call that man the Spectre? And when he said Trajan, did he mean Papa?” Lines pleated the boy’s brow as he said in a quivering voice, “Is he going hurt Papa? Is he going to hurt us?”
She swallowed, not knowing what to say. She was no fool. The Spectre was a bloodthirsty and remorseless villain who had no intention of bargaining for anything. He meant to get his money—and his revenge too. And there was one sure way of bringing Gabriel to his knees.
She looked at Freddy’s small, dear face, and love and resolution rooted in her.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, my darling.” She took him by the shoulders. “I have a plan. And I’m going to need your help.”
***
“Where did he take them?” Gabriel demanded.
“I don’t know.” Sitting in the duke’s study, Manette Fontaine was white-lipped. “He did not tell me his plans.”
“He has my sister and the marquess’ son.” The duchess stood in front of the prisoner, her hands fisted on her hips. “If anything happens to them, you will be an accomplice to murder. Actually, you’re already an accomplice to high treason. You’re going to hang.”
