Realm 04 - A Touch of Grace (40 page)

The Three Roses had dutifully returned to Gossling Hill on the previous afternoon. They had spent only one day among Lord Hyatt’s guests, and reportedly, Aunt Lyn’s son had not approved of his mother placing herself in the midst of his cousin’s marital strife. Yet, Lady Hyatt had ignored the baronet’s protestations.

“If the weather holds, we shall be at Gable Hill in two days,” the dowager duchess announced.

“Too soon,” Lía observed as she settled her cane against the carriage’s door. “The journey should never have occurred.”

“Mr. Pennington sends word our nephew has not returned to London. At least, we know Godown is not at Fugol Hall,” Aunt Bel shared.

Grace looked away to hide the tears pooling in her eyes’ corners. Likely, her husband had sought solace in another woman’s arms. “As long as His Lordship is safe,” she said softly into the silence.

*

They had been on the road less than two hours when the attack came. “Stand and deliver!” a rough voice called as Godown’s coachman brought the carriage to a hurried halt: One sending the coach’s four occupants slamming into each other.

Righting herself before turning her attention to Lía, Grace kept a close eye on the coach’s window. She would protect Lord Godown’s family against what was likely a common highwayman. When the masked man jerked open the door, Grace moved quickly to place herself between their assailant and her husband’s aunts. “How dare you?” she charged.

The masked intruder smiled largely. “I dare many things, Lady Godown.”

Grace felt her chest tighten. Their attacker knew her name. “What do you want from us?” she demanded.

The man purposely directed his orders to the Roses. “I want you and Lord Godown’s family to enjoy the ride. One of my men has assumed the reins.”

“Where are you taking us?” Bel asked as she straightened her bonnet.

“Some place where Lord Godown’s skills will prove null.” With that, the carriage door slammed shut, and the wheels rolled onward. From the window, Grace could see, at least, three outriders escorting the coach to its new destination. “Are any of you injured?” she asked with some urgency.

“A few bumps and bruises, but we will survive,” Lyn assured.

Grace sat heavily into the coach’s squabs. “We must determine how we should proceed.”

Bel said authoritatively, “Evidently, our captors mean to have some sort of revenge on Godown.”

Grace’s mind raced with the possibilities. “Could someone have taken His Lordship prisoner? Would that be the reason we have received no word of my husband’s whereabouts?”

Bel said confidently, “Godown’s service has earned our nephew many enemies.”

Lía clung to the strap, but she said, “How many of Godown’s enemies know of his marriage, and how many knew of the occupants, who traveled in the marquis’s coach?”

Grace quickly realized Godown’s Aunt Lía had struck on a prime point: Whoever had orchestrated their capture had targeted Lord Godown’s family. Grace immediately thought of her brother and Lord Spectre. “I believe I know who has brought this perfidy to Lord Godown’s door.”

“Who?” Lyn said into the stillness.

“Me.”

*

The rider had delivered the message less than an hour prior. It had taken Gabriel and Swenton but a quarter hour to be on their way to Liverpool. Neither man spoke; they understood the urgency with which they rode. The message had said Murhad Jamot planned to meet a ship, one reportedly carrying a large shipment of opium, in the harbor. Swenton rode to know the successful completion of another assignment. Gabriel to rid himself of his need to stop Grace’s removal from Gossling Hill. He could not forgive his wife for her many transgressions or himself for still wanting her with him.

As they changed horses at a Realm-owned inn, Gabriel ventured, “Do you suppose any of Jamot’s English partners are involved in this shipment?” He thought of Grace’s brother and how it would crush his wife if the Realm arrested Geoffrey Nelson for playing a role in this illegal activity. He wondered if there was any way he could protect the baron. Here he was again considering ways to shield a woman, who had brought him nothing but grief. Yet, he knew that particular condemnation untrue. Grace had brought him happiness. It was her connections that had dampened his memory of their time together.

“I would hope to discover who finances the Baloch’s private enterprise,” Swenton said earnestly.

*

How long they had traveled, Grace could not say, but deep shadows covered the docks when they were finally assisted from the duchess’s traveling coach. At the few stops they had made, the men who escorted them would only permit one of them at a time the freedom of attending to her needs. Always the one allowed a few moments of privacy was under the threat that if she signaled for assistance, the other three remaining in the coach would know their attackers’ vengeances.

For what likely was more than an hour, Grace had dutifully massaged Lía’s cramped legs. Godown’s aunt suffered from the long confinement. Yet, throughout the ordeal, Grace had worked hard to maintain her composure. She held no doubt whoever had arranged their abductions had done so under the mysterious Lord Spectre’s orders. That fact meant His Lordship would become the target, and she and Lord Godown’s aunts would be the bait. Somehow, Grace must keep her husband safe, and she must devise a rescue of the Three Roses.

“Where are we?” Bel whispered close to Grace’s ear.

Grace nodded toward a nearby warehouse. “Liverpool,” she said softly. She would need Bel’s cooperation if she were to find a means to set Godown’s aunts free. “Keep your sisters close until we discover what these men intend.”

Bel nodded her understanding. “We are not so timid as other of the haut ton. The men shall know regret for kidnapping a woman of French ancestry.”

Despite the craziness, Grace smiled. God! She would miss these women! They had opened their arms to her. Had offered her their complete loyalty. “I pray you are correct, Duchess.”

“That is enough, Ladies,” the group’s leader warned.

“What happens next?” Grace asked boldly.

The man smiled sinisterly. “We will make another short journey.”

Grace glanced around. The men had released the horses and the carriage. They stood on a deserted section of the docks. If they had to travel by foot Aunt Lía would never make it. “What might be our destination?”

“Out there.” The man gestured to a waiting ship.

Grace’s legs nearly buckled. How could they escape if they were taken aboard ship? How could she protect the Three Roses on a floating prison?

*

It was mid-day on the day after the message had arrived when Gabriel and Swenton rode into the circle before The Golden Apple. The Realm regularly used the inn as a meeting point in this part of England. As a busy port on England’s western coastline, Liverpool brought the world’s riches to English shores. It also brought the world’s evils. Unsurprisingly, Carter Lowery met them as they brought their mounts to a halt.

“Did not expect you to join us,” Lowery said as he shook Gabriel’s hand. “I thought you would be enjoying your marriage bed.”

Despite his best efforts, Gabriel frowned. “My marriage bed is one of convenience. I am not in Lady Godown’s pocket.”

Swenton added, “It is for the best. Godown and I were the first two on this investigation. We are familiar with the players.”

Lowery nodded his understanding. “That is true. You and the marquis chased Jamot’s opium connections while the rest of us assisted Thornhill in the rescue of his duchess and his daughter.” They entered the darkened establishment together. “Let us make ourselves comfortable. We have intricate plans to set in motion.”

*

Their abductors had forced her and the Roses into a small boat, and they were rowed out to the great ship. Grace made a point of assisting Lyn with her twin’s care. Poor Lía had suffered greatly from the long carriage ride and the rough manhandling of their transfer from land to sea. Only the dowager duchess displayed no break in her countenance. Throughout their torment, Lord Godown’s Aunt Bel maintained her aristocratic bearing. Only a few smudges on her gown indicated their group had known foul language and unnecessary brusqueness.

Finally, their small craft was hoisted along side the ship, and they climbed the rope ladder to stand on the vessel’s deck. “Please tell me you have not suffered further,” Grace pleaded as one of the crew sat Lía on her feet beside where her sisters stood. The man had carried the petite urchin-like viscountess over his shoulder after Lía could not manage the rope ladder on her own.

“I will prevail,” the viscountess assured her sisters.

Engrossed in the care of Lord Godown’s aunts, Grace, at first, had not realized several others had joined their abductors on the ship’s deck. But when a shadow blocked the faint lantern light, she looked up to discover a man she had hoped never to encounter again.

“Well, well,” he said with some satisfaction. “When your brother confided you had married Lord Godown, I had thought our dear Geoffrey had imbibed too heavily, but, for once, Nelson spoke the truth.” He stepped closer to Grace, and without thinking, she took a half step backward. “I had planned to know you in the Biblical sense when we were in Lancashire, but I am thankful I waited. It will kill Godown to discover I have violated his wife. Later, I will permit the others to have you, but I will know my satisfaction first.”

Grace worked at keeping her voice even. “Am I to know what offense my husband has committed? After all, if I am to pay for Lord Godown’s sins, it seems only fair.”

The man she knew as Lord Spectre barked a laugh. “Nothing dims your spirit. I like that about you, Grace.”

“My name, Lord Spectre, is Lady Godown,” she declared defiantly.

Spectre caught her chin roughly and shoved it upward. She thought he might strike her. “Do not expect me to care for your airs, Grace,” he said with a warning. Purposely, he shoved her toward where Godown’s aunts waited. “Place them below,” he ordered. “And place a guard on them.”

“Wait!” she said in desperation. “What of my aunts? They can offer you no harm. Permit them their freedom, and I will willingly stay.”

Spectre snarled, “You think I do not recognize Lord Godown’s family?” He gestured grandly. “Your kin will know your fate, my Dear.” Grace’s composure slipped, but she refused to permit Lord Spectre to see her fear.

*

Several men herded the women toward the lower levels before the Baloch stepped from the shadows. “I still say this is a foolish move,” he said as he stepped beside the irascible English lord. “I have studied Lord Godown and his associates for a year. You must never believe you have the upper hand.”

The English lord snarled his nose at the suggestion. “Gabriel Crowden stole my inheritance. I cannot seize his title, but I can eliminate his future.”

The Baloch said, “If you have no objection, my Lord. I will claim my portion of the shipment. I have anxious contacts waiting for the powder.”

Specter flicked his wrist in dismissal. “If you have no resolve for what is to follow with Lord Godown, then be gone. I should have known better than to align myself with the likes of you.”

It was Jamot’s turn to know contempt. Of all the men aboard this ship only he had dared to confront the Realm, but he swallowed the angry words that had sprung to his lips. Instead, Jamot watched the man carefully. All he truly cared about was the shipment for which he had contracted. He did not care for Lord Spectre’s attitude or the man’s methods. First, their mission should have superseded Spectre’s need for revenge. The Englishman had placed his own desires above the men who served him, which made Spectre a weak leader. They had suppliers waiting for the black powder, and Jamot would not be pleased if the foolish lord’s pride interfered with Jamot’s profits. In addition, he would not tolerate the Englishman’s plans to violate Lord Godown’s wife and family. Jamot held no appetite for such maneuverings. Ashmita’s cries still haunted him. Even after some seven years, he could not be rid of the guilt he felt for not protecting the woman he loved against Shaheed Mir’s edict. The Baloch leader had turned Ashmita into the tribal whore. Jamot would not permit Lord Godown’s wife to know the same fate. “Perhaps, I will exercise my own revenge. What would happen if someone foils the Ghost Lord’s plans?” he thought as he made his way below deck.

*

“Then it is agreed,” Lowery said. “We will not move until the night’s middle. Hopefully, many of innocents aboard the brig will be asleep. After midnight, Captain Wainwright will move our yacht into place to prevent the Sea Spray’s escape from the harbor.”

Gabriel would have preferred to move immediately. He desperately required a means of lessening his recent frustrations, and a confrontation, no matter how dangerous, would be welcomed. The wait would only enflame his disturbance. He watched the darkening shadows spread across the inn yard. Somewhere out beyond the woods and the fields–somewhere on the road to Devon–his wife had taken refuge. He hated how dependent upon Grace’s memory he had become. How in his most private moments, his wife’s image invaded his thoughts. “Be safe,” he whispered to the approaching night. “And be happy, my Love.” Less than a week prior, his future held such astounding hopes, but now only the infernal loneliness remained. He had driven from him the one person who could make him whole. “My Love,” he rolled the words about his tongue to taste them. Did he love Grace” How could a man love someone he did not trust? Yet, he did. He loved Grace. Why had he not realized it before he had made a cake of himself?

*

The room in which the men placed them was obviously one of the officer’s quarters. Lyn assisted her twin to the small cot and settled Lía to a comfortable position. “This is not necessary,” Lía protested, but she sighed with relief when her sister lifted her legs to the rickety bed.

“What do we do now?” Grace asked as she surveyed their “prison.” She noted how Lord Godown’s Aunt Bel sank heavily into one of the three chairs lining the wall. Her sister followed, only Lyn placed her chair close to where Lía rested.

Bel spoke, at last. “We should go over the facts we have at hand, and then determine how best to proceed.” She motioned Grace to the remaining chair. “Perhaps, you might tell us what you know of the man who makes the threats against my nephew.”