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Then, at last, he pushed at the outside board. It didn’t move. It seemed to be one solid piece of wood, but he couldn’t even tell how thick it was, for it was larger than the window and too close to the outside wall of the building for him to get his hand around.

At least he could feel the breeze around the edges, so he knew it was to the outdoors, and not just to another imprisoning room. But how he was to get there...?

Grasping his quizzing glass, he drew the ribbon over his head and tried to insert the handle between the board and the outside wall. He couldn’t do it.

In time, perhaps, he could use the glass, scrape away at the wood... But it was a huge job, and he could barely see what he was doing now. Worse, his eyelids seemed unnaturally heavy, his vision uncertain, his head dizzy.

In despair, he cursed laudanum and kidnappers indiscriminately. He cursed himself for stupidity and weakness, and the fate that was keeping him from April. If he could work through the night, perhaps he could be out before morning. But he had difficulty grasping the piece of glass, let alone making it do the work he wanted, and if he lost consciousness, he would fall and crack his skull.

He might deserve death, but who then would care for his wife and child...? If he still had either.

He dropped the glass onto the sill, closed and hooked the shutters, and somehow, awkwardly, clumsily, lowered himself to the ground, where he staggered and had to save himself by falling into the wall. Somehow, he got himself to the opposite side of the room and onto his blanket. Black desolation enveloped him into its bitterly familiar arms and he slept.

***

APRIL, FAR MORE SHATTERED by her dash to Seven Dials and back than she cared to admit, did not feel well. Worse, she had deserted her baby, and Ruby—at the very least, Ruby—knew it. How closely were Piers’s kidnappers watching the house? Would they know Stewart had gone to Mr. Pepper in order for the ransom money to be obtained?

More importantly, had Pepper obeyed? Had he been to the bank and at least arranged to collect the money? All she had heard, via Mrs. Park, was a brief message from Stewart that the solicitor had been given her news. She and everyone else would assume it was news of the baby’s birth and April did not correct them.

On the other hand, Piers’s absence was no secret. Of course, practically speaking, fathers had very little to do with small babies, but the Parks knew, if Aunt Hortensia did not, that this was out of character for him.

That evening, April ate her evening meal while her eyelids drooped, and the baby slept in his cradle. Mrs. Park lingered to keep her company. Not that she said much, she just watched April and bit her lip.

“What?” April said at last, opening her eyes wide.

“I thought I’d get Park to call in at Bow Street,” the housekeeper said in a rush.

“Oh, no! He mustn’t do that.”

“That’s what Stewart said.”

“It’s what I told Stewart.”

“Why?” Mrs. Park asked, her incomprehension clear. “He wouldn’t do this.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be home soon. But no one must go to Bow Street.”

“April—my lady—”

“No one,” April said, pushing the plate away from her. “I’m going to sleep now.”

Mrs. Park pursed her lips, more anxious than offended, which made April feel even worse than she already did. But at least for now, April was sure of her obedience.

She wished she had the strength to go out again, to find him. Because the more she thought of it, the more she was sure his kidnappers must be able to watch the waste ground in Saracen Street. No one would leave any money anywhere in Seven Dials and expect it to remain there for more than a moment. And yet they wouldn’t want to lurk obviously where they would be seen by her or followed by anyone else.

If she went back tonight, she could at least eliminate the smaller, cottage-like building from her list. And go back to the alehouse. Not that she thought they would keep Piers there—such houses were too public to be safe. But she might encounter a kidnapper...

If she didn’t find Piers in that cottage on the other side first. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being there a moment longer than he needed to be, certainly not another whole night. And yet, at first sign of a rescue they would kill him.

Her head pounded with distress. She could not bear this.

Yes, she could. She could bear anything to get him back. And she would.

I’m sorry, Piers. It has to be tomorrow.

Her eyelids fell and she slept.

Chapter Six