“Bragge?”Marcus exclaimed.“Whatever has happened?”
“M’lady,” she gasped.“Kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?”
She nodded.“Taken off in a carriage.”
“Who was it?Could you describe them?”
She shook her head.“I’m sorry, m’lord.It happened so fast I didn’t see their faces.I couldn’t stop them.They knocked me to the ground and—”
“Never mind that.It wasn’t your fault.Where did this happen?”
“Outside the House of Chance.Lady Hewitt was getting her final fitt—”
Cutting her off, Marcus turned to the butler who’d been hovering and uttering small distressed sounds.“Peverill, take Miss Bragge inside and see to her needs.And send your two strongest footmen to come with me.Oh, and inform my aunt as to what has happened.”
In minutes he was inside his coach, returning to the scene of the crime, with a groom riding on the back and two footmen inside.And with two loaded dueling pistols in the capacious pockets of his coat.
His brain was racing.His stomach knotted in fear.Who would kidnap Tessa?If Edgar had remained in England he would be the obvious choice, but he was gone.
Or was he?Had he escaped from the ship?Returned to England?
He scribbled a note, then handed it to one of the footmen.Take this to Mr Gil Radcliffe at the Horse Guards.Hand it to him and only him—don’t allow anyone to fob you off.Tell them it’s urgent.A matter of life and death!”A cold sliver of ice ran down his spine as he said it.Pray he was wrong about that.
Pray Radcliffe could help.He might know something.Radcliffe was uncanny like that.
The carriage slowed.The footman jumped down and ran off, the note clutched in his hand, and they continued on to the House of Chance.
Standing outside was a small, elegantly dressed woman clutching the arm of a burly-looking fellow in a luridly colored waistcoat.She was clearly distressed.
“That’s the dressmaker,” the remaining footman said.“I dunno who the big bloke is.”
Marcus jumped down and the little woman rushed up.“Oh, Lord Alverleigh, I’m that sorry about—”
He brushed her apologies aside.“What happened?”
She shook her head.“I didn’t see it.The first I knew was when I heard a scream, and by the time I came outside, there was a carriage driving away and poor Miss Bragge in the gutter, struggling to get up.”
“Which direction did the carriage go in?”
She pointed.“But then it turned the corner and I couldn’t see it no—anymore.”
The burly man said, “I’ve questioned a few people who saw what happened.There were two men and a driver.The carriage was old and shabby, but the horses pulling it were good.”He was Irish by his accent.
Marcus frowned.Who the devil was this fellow?Was he part of this?
The Irishman seemed to read his doubts.“Me name’s Flynn.This is me wife’s shop.She’s mighty upset about such a thing happening to one of her clients—we both are.And she’s especially fond of Lady Hewitt.So, I’m here to help.”He proffered his hand and as Marcus shook it, Flynn added, “I’m accounted a fair hand in a fight.”
Marcus could believe it.The man looked fit and brawny, and despite the obvious expense of his clothing, and the colorful silk waistcoat, his hands were big and bore scars from a hard life.
And he was obviously a quick thinker, having questioned any onlookers.Marcus glanced around hoping for inspiration.“Nobody saw anything?”
Flynn grimaced.“Nothing useful.It was over so quickly, all most people knew was a scream and a poor lady fallen into the gutter—never mind a kidnapped one.I did get one description: Two men in plain coats, both with hats pulled low and one with a scarf around his mouth.”He grimaced again.“Could be anyone.”
At that point a hackney cab pulled up, and Marcus’s footman jumped down accompanied by Radcliffe’s men, Sims and Jackson.The footman handed Marcus a note.It was from Radcliffe.
My men are 100% reliable.If they said they’d put Blaxland on a ship to America, they did it.I’m sending them to help in the search.In the meantime I’ll do my best to dig out any useful information.If I find anything, I’ll let you know.
