A Midsummer Night's Sin (15 page)

“Yes. Dressed as a woman in order to protect his employer’s soiled doves. You and I aren’t the only souls in London who are aware that women are disappearing from the streets. There’s a very quiet army out there hunting for our kidnappers, one way or another. I don’t need to say more, do I? Except to add that, amazingly,
our Mr. Queen makes a fairly attractive female. In any case, he had the misfortune of being mistaken for a slight, blonde woman—the curse of walking streets not lit after dark—and was taken up by what we can only assume are the same persons who kidnapped Miranda at the masquerade Friday night. Same night, same neighborhood—probably not coincidental.”

“Agreed,” Jack said. “Go on.”

Puck looked to Regina, who nodded encouragingly. “Tell us everything. Please.”

“All right. Mr. Queen was grabbed from behind, stunned by a knock on the head but not completely unconscious—probably thanks to the thickness of his wig—and tossed into a shabby black coach. The shades were nailed in place, and it was pitch-black inside, so he could not identify the other occupant. He knew there was another occupant, because he’d landed on her. She, unlike Mr. Queen, was unconscious, not even protesting when he fell on her. He immediately decided not to call out or pound on the door but simply to await his chance. He knew what had happened to him, you see. The coach smelled of laudanum and, as I said, it was totally dark inside, so that showing him Miranda’s miniature meant nothing.”

Regina bit her bottom lip, holding back what otherwise would surely have been a sob.

“The coach made its way to the docks before coming to a halt, at which time our Mr. Queen, being in possession of a rather ugly knife, greeted his kidnappers with it when the coach door was opened, bounded to
the ground and, to quote the man, ‘Used my dew beaters to lope off fast as I could.’”

“‘He who fights and runs away…’” Jack quoted, nodding his head.

“Yes, and before you ask, no, Mr. Queen does not remember the street, except that the coach ride had been no more than a quarter hour in duration, which would lead us to the London Docks. Added to that, Mr. Queen remembers an overpowering smell of tobacco, which would again indicate the London Docks and the new tobacco warehouse located there. Mostly, however, he remembers running for his life, which a man dressed as a woman, his blond wig a casualty of his brief incarceration, might do when he finds himself in a strange neighborhood. God knows I’d have trouble explaining myself, were I caught out in such a position.”

“Where is this Mr. Queen now?”

“Along with our friend Dickie, I chose not to adopt him. I’m sure you’ll find him back in his usual haunts in a week or two, if you wish to apply thumbscrews to him, but I think he’s given us all that he knows.” Puck turned to Regina, his eyes soft with sympathy. “It’s progress, sweetings.”

“I know. I…I’m just thinking of how terrified she must have been. One minute at the masquerade, the next only the good Lord knows where. And being forced to drink laudanum? That’s what they did, didn’t they? Her kidnappers? They drugged her and then tossed her into their coach as if she were a bolt of cloth or a sack of meal and drove off with her. And that man,
that Mr. Queen, he did nothing to help her. He simply left her there.”

“Yes. He regrets that. Fervently,” Puck told her.

“And you point fingers at
my
methods?” Jack said. “Well done, brother. However, the London Docks? Counting warehouses, storage houses, the ships drawn up there? It could take an army of men a month to find what we’re looking for.”

“True. But that’s still better than hunting all up and down the Thames, searching every dock. Unless they had a small boat tied there and the ship is already anchored in the middle of the river. There’s no end to the possibilities.”

Jack nodded his agreement. “I’ll arrange to have some Runners and a few others positioned on the docks, looking out for any unusual activity. God, that sounds so obvious. And pointless. We need to attack this from another angle.”

Regina looked from one man to the other. Were they still holding back, not telling each other everything they knew? As she was holding back herself, it seemed possible.

“There is the Trojan Horse,” she ventured at last.

Both brothers turned to look at her, Jack with a rather sardonic smile, Puck in some amusement.

“I’m sorry, Regina,” Puck said in some sympathy, she supposed. “You want us to declare defeat by gifting the slavers with a wooden horse? Roll it onto the docks and tie a bow around its neck? Or perhaps a sign on its
flanks instead? ‘You win, we concede, and to prove it, here’s a pretty horsey?’”

“This is an example of the famed Robin Goodfellow charm? I’m amazed you’ve lived as long as you have,” Jack said, looking to Regina as if she might launch a physical attack on Puck at any moment. “Forgive him, Regina. He’s played the fool so long and so well, he sometimes misplaces his brains. You don’t mean an actual Trojan Horse, correct?”

“Thank you, no. I don’t. Puck, you know that, don’t you?”

“I do. And the answer is no.”

“But Puck—”

“I said,
no.
Jack, you know what she’s saying, don’t you?”

“I think so, but I wasn’t aware you did. Thirty men, left inside the belly of the wooden horse, to be dragged inside the gates and then, once the revelry died down, sneaking out to open the gates to the remainder of the army. Regina, your pardon, but what I think you meant to say was that we need a stalking horse. Not a Trojan Horse.”

“I don’t care if she calls it Prinney’s trick pony. The answer is still no. A loud, resounding
no.
”

But Regina had the bit between her teeth now. After all, it seemed such an obvious solution. “Puck, you’ve got to see the reasoning. You said it yourself. Or Jack said it. The London Docks are immense. I’ve been there with my father, I’ve seen them. We’d never find her. But if we give the kidnappers a gift?”

“You’re not a gift, Regina.” He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re saying? We put you out on the street, wait for you to be snatched up by these bas—no-goods, follow you to their makeshift prison, and you, God help us all, think that you’ll somehow wait until everyone is drunk or sleeping, at which point you will be able to somehow open the doors for us.”

“Well, yes.” It did sound far-fetched when Puck said it. There were several details that would have to be worked out, certainly.

Puck immediately mentioned one of them.

“One, you’re not blond.”

At least she had a ready answer. “Neither is Mr. Queen. He isn’t even female. And he fooled them. Surely you must be able to find a blond wig for me that’s better than his.”

Jack retreated to the drinks table and poured another glass of wine. He was probably being discreet. Or he was enjoying Puck’s discomfiture too much.

“You’re too tall.”

“Yes, there is that. But Jack said they seem to be getting desperate. Taking prostitutes, collecting females at an astonishing rate. They’re getting ready to leave, Puck, and once their ship sets sail, Miranda is lost forever. Jack already said as much before you arrived. You’ve made astonishing progress, but it’s not enough.”

The look Puck threw Jack could have melted icebergs. That Jack merely smiled and shrugged certainly didn’t help matters.

Regina hastened to continue. “We know where they are…?.”

“Ha! You said you’ve been to London Docks. It’s little better than what we did know—that they’re in London.”

Regina wasn’t so easily discouraged. “But just think, Puck. We could use the story we invented to satisfy my aunt and uncle Friday night. The coachman can lose his way, there is an accident of some kind. There I’d be. A lady of some quality, alone in the night, virtually unprotected.”

“Ripe pickings,” Jack said, seating himself once more and again crossing one long leg over the other. “The idea has merit.”

Puck looked ready to strangle his brother.

Jack shook his head. “For God’s sake, man, climb down out of the treetops. Not Regina. Good God, no. But someone. You said Mr. Queen is not available?”

“He’s rather indisposed,” Puck said, shooting a sidelong glance at Regina. “He may have cracked a few ribs somehow. Probably when we fell. Then there’s the matter of his blackened eyes.”

Regina rolled her own eyes. “The man looked perfectly fine when I saw him. You hit him, didn’t you? Well, good for you. I would have liked to hit him a time or two myself. Leaving Miranda like that? And he was armed. He could have helped her.”

“I know a woman…” Jack said, getting to his feet. “We…we have a history. For the right price, she may feel the risk worth taking.”

Regina shook her head vehemently. “No, we can’t ask someone else to take such a risk. It’s my fault Miranda is in the fix she’s in. I gave in to my own curiosity and agreed to accompany her Friday night. She’s a goose, bless her, but I’m supposed to have more sense.” She looked beseechingly at Puck. “Please. Maybe nothing will come of it, but we can’t know if we don’t try. And you’d never be far away. You could merely follow us after I’ve been…you know. Taken.”

Jack clapped a hand on Puck’s shoulder. “I’ll return tomorrow, at ten. We’ll discuss this again. In the meantime, I’m for the London Docks. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and the horse can remain in the stables—or the carpentry shop. Regina?” He made her a rather elegant bow. “It was my distinct and humble pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night, Jack,” she said, watching as he left the room, wishing him back because she could feel Puck seething behind her.

“He didn’t tell you anything,” she pointed out once Jack had gone. She turned around to face Puck. “We told him things, and he managed to tell us nothing. Do you think he knows nothing?”

“He told us that two more young women have been snatched off the streets. Did he seem surprised when I mentioned the London Docks? It’s difficult to tell with Jack, what he knows, what he doesn’t know.”

“He knows that we don’t have much more time. Why didn’t you tell him about the masquerade ball?”

“I don’t know. Habit?” He smiled. “The fact that he plays his own cards close to his vest? Or perhaps that it
seemed silly to have us both going down the same path. Well, at least now I won’t have Dickie Carstairs dogging my every step. The fellow is as subtle as a charging boar.” He held out his hand to her, and she took it, getting to her feet. “I haven’t had time to tell you how fetching you look in that muslin armor. Virginal as a nun, and yet all I can think about is how I would enjoy loosing every one of those innumerable buttons.”

Regina felt her body softening inside but fought the sensation. “Don’t attempt to distract me, Puck. The Trojan Horse was my idea, and I want to be a part of it. You wouldn’t let anything really terrible happen to me.”

“Your blind trust bids fair to unman me. But no, it’s out of the question. You did hear what I said about La Reina, didn’t you? Picked up, conked on the head and tossed? And worse, what they did to Miranda. Laudanum. You expect me to stay in the shadows and
watch
such a thing?”

Regina sighed soulfully. “You’re right, of course. It was a half-formed idea, spoken before I could work through it to the flaws. But Jack seemed to think it might be something we could try.”

“Jack enjoys other people’s discomfort. If he came here tonight to better understand why you’re here, he’s now had his answer. I’ve become putty in your hands. But not so much that I’d allow you to put yourself in danger.”

“Thank you. I’ll admit that the idea terrified me. I just keep thinking about Miranda and what she must
be enduring right now. Sometimes I think I’ll go mad, imagining she thinks we’ve deserted her or that we’ve decided that she ran away on her own. How she feels. What she’s thinking. She could be thinking that no one is looking for her or that we believe she’s dead. She has to be thinking of her mother, how the woman is grieving for her lost daughter…” Regina dropped her head into her hands. “My mind won’t stop, Puck. There has to be something I can do other than sit safely in your coach while you chase horrible little men down alleyways. That we can do.”

He opened his arms to her. “Come here,” he said and folded his arms around her. It felt like coming home. He pressed a kiss against her hair. “We’re going to find her, Regina. These men aren’t fools. They’ll keep her safe. They’d lose too much profit, otherwise.”

“If…if she was violated,” Regina said into his shirt-front. “Are you sure of that, or are you just attempting to calm my fears?”

“No, I’m sure of that,” he said, and she peeked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his tone.

“How do you know?”

He looked at her, his eyes clear and honest. “When I was taking my Grand Tour, I heard some stories of the slave trade. Virgins are highly prized. If we can find her, get her back, she can be taken to the country to recover from her fright and then return to society as if nothing ever happened.”

“Who…who buys these poor young women? What sort of horrible men buy them? Do they place orders
with these terrible men? Bring me a blond white woman? As if they might be ordering a new shirt?”

His smile was rueful as he dabbed at her wet cheeks with his handkerchief. “Yes, rather like that, I think. Not being human themselves, they have no compassion for the human race in general. Your cousin, I’m afraid, is a valuable commodity to her abductors, and…and an expensive toy for the purchaser. I’m sorry, sweetings. There’s really no delicate way of putting it. Now come along, it’s bed for you, and for me, as well. We’re going to have another full day tomorrow.”

She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “I hate being alone,” she told him, unable to hide her feelings. “The minutes drag, as they did tonight as I waited for you to finish with Mr. Queen. And my mind races. It goes places I don’t want it to go, drawing pictures I don’t want to see, but I’m powerless to stop any of it. Can you imagine how Aunt Claire feels, if I’m so overset?”

Puck took her hand in his and led her toward the stairs. “And how are the ladies since we saw them at dinner? I know it’s impossible to make them comfortable.”