"Sir Birnie asked me to bring Lady Draven in to take an official statement. He wants everything in order so that the magistrates can try Coyner as soon as he arrives," the Runner added.
Marianne drew a breath and straightened. "I can go right now."
"I'll come with you," Ambrose said.
She shook her head. "I want you to stay here with Primrose."
When he tried to argue, she placed a finger to his lips. "Please, Ambrose. Even with Coyner in custody, I'd feel better knowing that you are here with my daughter."
Ambrose frowned. "What about you?"
"I'll take Lugo," she said. "We shan't be more than an hour or two."
Ambrose hesitated. Reluctantly, he said, "Mind you go straight to Bow Street and back."
She nodded.
The Runner offered his arm. "Shall we, my lady?"
* * *
An hour later, Ambrose stood on the terrace next to his father. His siblings and Primrose were present as well, and they all watched as Harry prepared to show off his latest experiment. On the outside, the invention looked innocuous enough: white paper tubes were strung together and suspended from a hat rack.
"Behold the Chinese Firecracker," Harry said.
As the others applauded, Ambrose said beneath his breath, "Are you certain this is safe, Father?"
"Harry's been experimenting for weeks. I'm sure he has it down," Samuel whispered back. In a louder voice, he said, "Go on and give us a show, lad."
As Harry reached for the matches, the door bell rang. Relief washed over Ambrose. Marianne was back.
"Wait up," he said with a grin. "I'm sure our hostess won't want to miss this."
He strode to the foyer, where Tilda was opening the door. The maid let out a gasp at the same time that a roar filled Ambrose's ears.
Lugo stood there, disheveled, his face swollen almost beyond recognition. Blood dripped from the large gash on his cheekbone.
"It was a trap," the African said hoarsely. "The note was forged. Smythe's working for Coyner—"
"Where is she?" Ambrose snarled.
"Coyner has her." Lugo held out a note. "Says to follow these instructions… or my lady dies."
43
Marianne blinked,the world coming into focus in bits. Darkening sky. Lapping waves. A cutter anchored next to the pier where she was lying on her side, her cheek pressed against the rickety planks. She tried to move, but her hands and feet were tied. Everything returned to her. The ambush in the carriage. Coyner and Smythe holding Lugo at gunpoint whilst they beat him to a pulp. Her throat clenched.God, Lugo. She'd tried to scream for help, but Coyner had smothered her with a handkerchief, and the noxious fumes had sent her into oblivion.
She fought the panic. Tried to think. Where was she... where was Coyner?
"Awake, are you?"
A boot pushed her shoulder, rolling her onto her back. She stared up at the man who'd imprisoned her daughter for nearly four years—who'd meant to do unspeakable harm to her little girl. Hatred poured through her veins, dissolving her fear.
"You won't get away with this," she said. "Kent will hunt you down."
"That's the plan. I even gave him the directions." The maniacal edge of Coyner's laugh raised the hairs on her skin. "You're the bait, you see. He'd do anything for you. Because of that, he'll bring my treasure straight to me."
"She's not yours, you perverted bastard," Marianne hissed. "She's eight years old—agirl."
