CHAPTER FOUR
London at dawn was just as smog-coated as it was in the evening, perhaps even more so due to the damp confines of the city and the chilly, rolling fog that the river Thames brought with it. However, on the rare occasions that it didn’t rain, Mara enjoyed seeing the sun peeking over the east horizon, its bright rays touching everything with a healthy dose of light.
Since it was Sunday, she didn’t have to open the shop today, but she had plenty of other things that needed to be done around the apartment before Roarke arrived. He’d made sure to mention that he’d be dropping by when he’d seen them home the day before and for some reason, knowing that he was going to show up made her more nervous than wondering if he might. In spite of this, she found herself taking a bit more time on her morning toilette, as well as donning her best day dress, a deep blue merino wool.
After tying on an apron, Mara set to work tidying up the kitchen and putting on a kettle for tea. Bentley usually slept later the morning after a fight, but he surprised her by waking up before she had breakfast ready and took a seat at the table.
“How are you this morning?” she asked, inspecting a couple of the dressings on his face that she had applied the prior evening. Thankfully, the homemade salve she normally used for cuts kept any injuries from bleeding. His left eye was still swollen, and he seemed to nurse his right side a bit where she’d bandaged his bruised ribs, but she didn’t think there were any broken bones. Granted, she’d never had any medical training, having only learned from personal experience, but either way, she’d trust her instincts before relying on any of the so-called physicians in the East End.
“The blood pudding and eggs should be ready in a few minutes, and I have bread in the oven—”
There was a knock at the door. Frowning, she glanced at the clock. Barely even half past seven, she thought it was a bit early for Roarke to be calling, but since they weren’t expecting anyone else, Bentley went to the door.
Almost without conscious thought, Mara patted her hair, pulled back into a simple bun. Hearing footsteps behind her, she wiped her hands on her apron before she turned from the skillet. “Your audacity knows no bounds to be here so early—”
Instantly, she froze, for the man standing before her was not Viscount Eversleigh. To her shock, it was the stranger from the boxing match the day before. Mara didn’t know his name, but she would have recognized that malicious smirk anywhere, for it caused a shiver of horror to travel up her spine.
“It smells delicious,” he nearly purred.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He merely shrugged. “Just doing a bit of investing is all.”
Mara didn’t have any time to question what he might have been talking about before two hulking men appeared and lunged at her. With no time to react, she got out only a partial cry before one of them threw a burlap sack over her head and lifted her off her feet. Kicking out blindly, a series of thuds and grunts met her ears before she was tossed to the ground.
“Leave her,” the stranger said. “We got what we came for.”
Momentarily stunned, Mara struggled to regain her breath, managing to tear the burlap off her long enough to glimpse Bentley. The same two men grabbed his unconscious form under his arms and began to drag him away.
“No!” The scream tore from her throat like an animalistic howl. She scrambled to her feet and flew at his captors. “Stop! Don’t hurt him! Let him go!”
Suddenly her arms were roughly pulled behind her. “Enough!”
After that the blow came, and her world went dark.
* * *
Roarke had been in the process of reading theTimesand drinking coffee, preferring something stronger than tea in the mornings, when there came an insistent knock at the front door. With a frown, he laid his paper aside but instantly rose to his feet when Davis, the investigator he’d hired to trail Mara, came rushing into the dining room.
His butler trailed along behind and sputtered rather indignantly, “Sir! You must be announced!”
The viscount waved him off, the urgency in the investigator’s stance clearly indicating a more pressing matter. “I’ll take it from here, Winston.”
The servant gave a stiff bow and took his leave. Roarke turned back to Davis with his sweat-covered brow and agitated manner. “What’s happened?”
The man’s breathing was still slightly labored. “Big B has been kidnapped.”
Roarke froze. “Are you certain?”
Davis gave a brisk nod. “Three men showed up not thirty minutes past and dragged him off. He appeared to be unconscious, for he wasn’t putting up a struggle. I was going to pursue them, but I thought you would want a report as soon as possible.”
“You did well,” Roarke concurred, and while he dreaded to ask the next question, he had to know. “What of the girl?”
“She was not with them.”
Which meant she was still in the apartment.Roarke felt his shoulders relax slightly, until he realized that although Mara might not have been taken, danger could yet be lurking.
Striding out into the foyer, Roarke issued orders to a nearby footman. “Have my horse saddled immediately.”
