Jarvis’s fingers tightened. “Speak, girl!”
Eloisa flinched, but not a single word passed her lips.
Jarvis stared down at her, his eyes bulging with shock. It had never occurred to him Eloisa would defy him. She’d never done so before.
“Very well, then.” He wrenched his daughter toward the door with a twist of her arm and dragged her from the study into the hallway. His wife scrambled after them up the stairs, her shrieks growing louder with every step. Several servants paused to watch, open-mouthed, but none dared interfere.
Jarvis didn’t stop until he reached a door at the end of a long hallway on the third floor, in the servants’ quarters of the house. “Get in,” he hissed. He shoved Eloisa into the bedchamber with enough force to make her stumble before grabbing his wife and shoving her in after. “Don’t bloody move, either of you. You’ll stay here until you tell me where Lucinda is.” He didn’t give either of them a chance to reply, but slammed the door closed and, just for good measure, locked it behind him.
He hurried back down the stairs to his study, closed and locked that door as well, and went straight to the sideboard. His hands were shaking so badly the first glass slid from his fingers and fell to the floor, but he managed to get the port into a second glass. He downed it with one swallow, filled it again, then grabbed the bottle and crossed the room to throw himself into the chair behind his desk.
He had tothink.
He was halfway through his third glass of port before he realized there was nothing to think about. Until Eloisa became hungry or thirsty enough to tell him where Lucinda was hiding, there wasn’t anything hecoulddo. Worse, he didn’t have much time. Godfrey was going to call in the debt this afternoon. Jarvis didn’t have the money, and without Lucinda he hadn’t a prayer of getting that much blunt in one go.
Nearly six thousand pounds, at last count.
Too much to steal from Lucinda’s trust. A pound or two here and there could be explained easily enough, but Chancery tended to frown on guardians snatching thousands of pounds from their wards. No, the only hope he had of paying the debt was to seize permanent control of Lucinda’s fortune, and for that he needed to get his hands on Lucinda.
Trouble was, London was a big city, and he hadn’t any bloody idea where to look for her. His first thought was Grosvenor Square, but he discarded it at once. Ramsey’s brother was some high-in-the-instep marquess with a fancy house on Grosvenor Street, but Jarvis knew well enough Ramsey wouldn’t take Lucinda there.
Ramsey wasn’t, alas, a fool. He’d guess that would be the first place Jarvis would look for her. The first and the last, because after Grosvenor Square, he hadn’t the vaguest idea where they might be. They could have gone anywhere. If Eloisa was to be believed, Lucinda had been missing the entire night. That was more than enough time for Ramsey to have taken her out of the city.
Even if they were still here, Jarvis didn’t have time to chase his niece down every filthy alley in London. Godfrey was waiting, and he wasn’t a patient man.
Or a merciful one.
That left Jarvis with one choice only. A quick retreat from London.
He muttered a vile curse and dropped his head into his hands, overwhelmed with self-pity. How had it come to this? He’d planned the thing so carefully, fit each piece into the next with such deftness he’d impressed even himself.
Now here he was, on the verge of leaving London with a vengeful earl and dozens of infuriated London tradesmen on his heels.
How could it all have gone so wrong, so quickly? Less than twelve hours ago he’d been at the Weatherby ball, satisfaction curling through him as Godfrey led Lucinda through three dances while all of fashionable London watched. He’d been so certain it was the beginning of the end for his troublesome niece, but he hadn’t anticipated she’d run. He’d expected another Eloisa, and instead he’d gotten a red-haired demon with an iron will and a rebellious streak wider than the Thames.
She was the wiliest, slipperiest chit he’d ever come across. No doubt she intended to remain hidden until her twenty-first birthday. Then she’d marry Ramsey, and take her sixty thousand pounds with her.
As for Jarvis, well…it was looking more and more like he’d be fleeing to the Continent with the bitter knowledge he’d been outmaneuvered by a devious slip of a girl with a sharp tongue and a mad father.
He reached for the bell and stood staring moodily out the window until Harley, the hired butler, appeared. He offered Jarvis a bow, then stood silently, waiting for instructions.
“My family and I are leaving London sooner than expected. Ready the carriage, send a maid to attend to our baggage, and make preparations to close the house.”
The man stared. “You mean to leavetoday?”
“I mean to leave well before teatime. Don’t stand about gaping, man! Do as I say. Oh, and we’re not at home to any visitors. Don’t even answer the door. I don’t care who it is.” Godfrey might turn up again, and the last thing Jarvis wanted was another confrontation with his lordship.
Harley looked as if he wished to say more, but he pressed his lips together and bowed stiffly. After he left there was nothing for Jarvis to do but sit and wait, and finish the rest of his bottle of port.
It never occurred to him to release his wife and daughter from their prison, nor did it cross his mind to inform them they’d be leaving London within a matter of hours. Indeed, he’d have completely forgotten about them both if something unexpected hadn’t occurred to remind him of their existence.
There was a knock on the door.
Jarvis’s first thought was it was Lord Godfrey, come early to collect his debt. He stumbled to his feet and peered out the window, but the awkward angle only permitted a glimpse of their visitor. He could see it wasn’t Godfrey—and thank God for it—but he couldn’t tell who it was.
Harley appeared in the study doorway and cleared his throat.
“Who is it?” Jarvis whirled around, nearly losing his balance. “What do they want?”
