“Thank you. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t intrude, but my poor boy has been targeted by bullies?—”
“Say no more,” Xenia said. “Let us split up to cover more ground.”
Xenia paired with Mrs. Sommers and Gigi with Evie. After seeing no sign of Kenny on their side of the square, Gigi led the way to the streets behind it.
“Conrad once caught bullies beating Kenny in one of the back lanes,” she said anxiously. “Maybe the poor lad was cornered there again.”
They searched a couple of alleyways to no avail. As they explored a third, Gigi had to cover her nose to block the stench coming from the large piles of rubbish. Suddenly, a figure materialized at the end of the lane. Gigi’s heart raced as he came closer and she recognized him: the waiter from the gala. He held a gun.
“Run, Evie,” she gasped.
She and Evie turned—but another man had emerged, blocking that path. Beefy and menacing, he, too, aimed a pistol at them. They were trapped.
“The first one to make a peep gets a bullet through her brains,” he said.
Gigi was about to scream anyway when she was grabbed from behind, a cloth shoved in her face. Sickly sweet fumes choked her. An instant later, she tumbled into oblivion.
When Gigi came to, she found herself sitting on the ground. She tried to move but couldn’t. Looking down, she saw ropes circling her arms and torso, binding her to a column. Groggy and confused, she tried to figure out where she was and how she’d come to be here. Panic swelled when she made out beastly shapes lurking in the dimness and the flutter of ghostly forms. Her cry of fear was muffled by her gag.
“Look who is awake,” said a strangely familiar voice.
A woman holding a lamp approached, her face hidden by the hood of her cloak. As she traversed the high-ceilinged space, the lamp illuminated passing objects. The shadowy forms weren’t animals but old machines…broken looms and spinning mules once used to produce textiles. And the hovering ghosts were remnants of cloth left on the looms.
I’m at the old mill. In a flash, everything returned to Gigi. Evie and I were looking for Kenny when those bounders kidnapped us. Dear heavens, where is Evie now?
Looking wildly around, she spotted her sister-in-law bound to another pole. Evie was slumped over, her blonde hair loose and falling over her face. The slow rise and fall of her chest showed that she was alive—thank heavens.
The woman stopped in front of Gigi. Crouching, she pulled down Gigi’s gag.
“Don’t try to scream,” she said. “I have a pistol, and I am not afraid to use it.”
Shock percolated through Gigi as she stared at her captor.
“Lady Anne?” she said hoarsely. “I don’t…I don’t understand. Why have you done this?”
“Because my papa is too ill to act and my mama too weak.” Anne rose in a graceful movement. “Your husband is trying to destroy my family, and I cannot allow that to happen.”
“You…you were behind that falling statue?” Gigi asked in disbelief.
“If the numskull I hired had done his job properly, then Mr. Godwin’s death would have looked like an accident. In a perfect world, the knowledge of his claim to my family’s title would have died with him. Instead, I had to deal with a botched murder attempt and an uncle who threatened to take away everything from me.”
Anger overcame Gigi’s fear. “Conrad has a right to the title. Your papa was the one who tried to take away his birthright.” A thought occurred to her. “How long have you known that Conrad is your papa’s brother?”
“For some time,” Anne said mildly. “During bouts of delirium, Papa spoke of his younger half-brother Christian. He confessed his sins—the beatings, the sentencing to Creavey Hall. Mama insisted it was Papa’s illness talking, that he would never be capable of such malevolence. Making excuses for him is one of her hobbies. I, however, have never been one to bury my head in the sand. I sold off my jewels to hire an investigator. His discovery that Conrad Godwin was my long-lost uncle coincided with the latter’s arrival in London. I knew that Godwin must have some plan up his sleeve.”
“Did you tell your father about this?”
“Why would I bother?” Anne said coldly. “The entire situation is of his making. Even before his illness, he never protected me, my mama, or my sisters from harm. He emptied the duchy’s coffers, spending it on whores, horses, and cards, with never a thought for us. For anyone but himself. Now he will die alone in a cell, ravaged by a disgusting disease—fitting, I suppose.”
Anne’s indifference raised the hairs on Gigi’s nape.
“He is your papa. While he has committed unpardonable sins, have you no feelings for him?”
Anne tilted her head. “Not really, no. During my time on the marriage mart, he complained about every expense, watched every penny. He called me a ‘bad investment’ because he claimed I lacked the beauty, charm, and wit to attract a suitor.” She scoffed. “What I really needed to land a husband was a dowry, but Papa would rather spend money on the harlots who gave him syphilis than the daughter who could give him grandchildren.”
When you put it that way…
Gigi pitied everyone who had the misfortune to be born into Robert Beaufort’s sphere.
