“Marius found the governess. She’s Davenport’s mistress and his accomplice,” Gabriel said grimly. “I’ll explain everything in the carriage. We need to get back to Strathaven’s immediately.”
***
As they pulled up in front of the duke’s residence, Gabriel knew something was wrong. The door was open; servants and men in uniform were milling about. He hit the ground running before the wheels came to a complete stop. He shouldered his way through the small throng and saw Strathaven and the duchess standing in the foyer.
The duke was giving orders to a circle of men. Runner types. Beside him, the duchess was pale, her face etched with worry.
“Where are Thea and Freddy?” The words left Gabriel in a shout.
“Tremont, you’re back.” Strathaven strode toward him, put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk in my study where it’s calmer—”
“Tell me what the hell happened.”
“They were taken.” This came from the duchess. “Sometime this afternoon. They were on their way to Marianne’s, and from what we’ve been able to piece together from witnesses, an unmarked carriage pulled up and shot the two footmen who were accompanying them. Thea and Freddy were grabbed.” Her voice hitched, and the duke’s arm circled her shoulders. “We don’t know who’s behind this or where they’ve been taken.”
“Davenport.” Blood was rushing through Gabriel’s ears. “He’s the Spectre.”
“What?” Strathaven and the duchess said as one.
Images bombarded him of Thea and Freddy, locked away in some hellhole. His beloved fighting for her breath, his son falling... Gabriel shook off his panic.
They’re strong; they’ll manage until you get there. Focus on getting them back.
“Gather everyone in your study. We’re going to rescue Thea and Freddy from the Spectre,” he said in clipped tones, “and every bloody minute counts.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
With Freddy’s head cradled in her lap, Thea took stock of the ominous situation. The boy was still unconscious from the noxious substance in the handkerchiefs that had been pressed over their faces during the abduction. She had regained her senses about a quarter hour ago and still felt woozy from the aftereffects. She had no idea how much time had passed, how long that carriage ride had been, or where they’d been taken.
At present, there was only the small, windowless room. The darkness suggested that they were in a basement. Both she and Freddy had metal cuffs on their ankles, with heavy chains connecting them to an iron ring in the wall. They sat on a thin pallet of straw, and her skin crawled at the skittering beneath her skirts.
Don’t panic. Try to figure out where you are.
Squinting into the dimness, she made out a small brick-lined alcove darkened with ash. A cooking area. This had functioned as a kitchen at one time. Sniffing now, she picked up the scent of stale grease and coal smoke steeped into the wooden walls. There was another smell in the air… brackish like seawater and sewage. She heard muffled, distant sounds from beyond the room. A boat’s horn, perhaps? Were they near the Thames? But it didn’t sound like the city; the hush here was different from the cacophony of London.
Freddy’s head shifted. His eyelashes fluttered, his unfocused eyes looking up at her.
Relief spread through Thea. “Are you all right, dear?”
“What h-happened?” he said groggily.
“We were taken. I don’t know by whom.” Feeling him tremble, she stroked his little freckled cheek. “I know it’s frightening, dear, but we mustn’t give into fear. We must focus on getting out of here. Your papa and my brother are surely on their way to find us.”
Freddy nodded, wide-eyed.
“Now do you think you can sit up?” she asked.
“I—I think so.”
With her assistance, he managed to prop himself up against the wall.
“Good job, dear. Now I’m going to take a look around the room, all right? You can help me by trying to see if there’s any way out of here.”
Getting to her feet, she walked the short perimeter of the chamber, no more than ten feet on each side. She tried to move as stealthily as possible to minimize the telltale clinking of the chain. She placed her palms on the walls; they were solid wood and thick. As far as she could tell, the only way out of the room was through the door, and she could hear the heavy footfalls of someone just outside. A guard, probably. Even if they could somehow get through the door, she hadn’t a chance of getting past a cutthroat.
As she stood there, despairing, a slight whistling sound caught her ear. At first, she thought she might be imagining it, but then it came again. Low and mournful as a funeral march.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered to Freddy.
“Hear what?” he whispered back.
“A whistling sound.”
He shook his head.
Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and focused just on listening, the way she sometimes did during practice. She heard her own heartbeat, the shifting of the world outside—and there it was. That noise again. It was coming from… the cooking area.
She hurried over to the nook. Ashes formed a thick carpet on the ground, and the brick walls of the cove were darkened from years of exposure to a cooking fire.
Fire, smoke
… Her heart began to thud.
It has to go out somewhere
. Stepping carefully onto the hearth, she peered into the darkness above.
And there it was.
A thin board had been nailed over the old opening for the flue. It didn’t cover the hole completely, and the whistling sound came from the wind seeping in around the edges. She could see the thin lines of light above and below the board. Freedom was suddenly not as far away as it had seemed just a moment ago. The hole was set about six feet high—reachable if she could hoist Freddy onto her shoulders. She judged the opening just big enough for the boy to fit through… if they could pry the wood loose. And if Freddy wasn’t chained to the wall.
At that instant, she heard footsteps approaching. Men’s voices. She hurried back toward Freddy, plopping herself next to him just as the door creaked on its hinges. A man in a greatcoat walked in. She recognized him from the painting she’d seen in his study. In the light of the lamp he held, Davenport’s patrician features had a distinctly menacing cast. Two lackeys hovered behind him, roughly dressed, hyenas eager to scavenge.
“Miss Kent and young Master Ridgley,” Davenport said in polished accents, “I do apologize for the humble lodgings, but I’m afraid I ran short of time. Unexpected circumstances, you see. But never fear, we shall only be here shortly.”
Thea stood, her shoulders straight. “Why have you taken us, Lord Davenport?”
He showed no surprise that she knew his identity. Instead, he smiled, and a chill slithered down her spine. “Why, for your charming company of course.”
“If it’s money you want—”
“Oh, I
do
want. But you, my dears, are even more valuable than gold.”
“Why?” Thea said.
“I have Trajan’s son and his fiancée as my guests.” The venom in Davenport’s voice injected her with paralyzing fear. “I’ll have him at my mercy and pay him back for ruining my plans.”
“You… you’re the Spectre?” she breathed.
His mouth curled. “My reputation precedes me, I see.”
“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this? You have position, status, wealth—”
“None of which will protect me when my secret is out. Octavian just wouldn’t give up, and Trajan was always an apple off the old tree. Because of them, I am going to lose the privileged life I’ve been leading. Since Octavian has already cashed his chips, so to speak, there’s only Trajan left to compensate me for my inconvenience.” His mouth curled with malice. “We travel soon.”
He turned, his black cape whirling behind him. His henchmen followed, casting covetous, hungry glances back. The door closed, and Thea felt the starch dissolve from her knees. She put a hand to the wall for support.
“Thea?” Freddy’s thin, frightened voice penetrated her daze.
She sank to her knees beside him. “I’m fine, Freddy.”
“Why did you call that man the Spectre? And when he said Trajan, did he mean Papa?” Lines pleated the boy’s brow as he said in a quivering voice, “Is he going hurt Papa? Is he going to hurt us?”
She swallowed, not knowing what to say. She was no fool. The Spectre was a bloodthirsty and remorseless villain who had no intention of bargaining for anything. He meant to get his money—and his revenge too. And there was one sure way of bringing Gabriel to his knees.
She looked at Freddy’s small, dear face, and love and resolution rooted in her.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, my darling.” She took him by the shoulders. “I have a plan. And I’m going to need your help.”
***
“Where did he take them?” Gabriel demanded.
“I don’t know.” Sitting in the duke’s study, Manette Fontaine was white-lipped. “He did not tell me his plans.”
“He has my sister and the marquess’ son.” The duchess stood in front of the prisoner, her hands fisted on her hips. “If anything happens to them, you will be an accomplice to murder. Actually, you’re already an accomplice to high treason. You’re going to hang.”
“Tr-treason?”
Seeing the blood drain from the woman’s face, Gabriel surmised her surprise was genuine.
“Didn’t Davenport tell you?” he said in lethal tones. “He’s a spy. He’s been selling British secrets for years. He’s been using his position in Parliament to facilitate his trade in treason.”
“I know nothing about that,” Fontaine gasped.
“Do you think anyone will believe you? You impersonated a governess and tried to abduct an innocent boy. You plotted to assassinate me in my carriage,” Gabriel said ruthlessly.
Her chest rose and fell in panicked waves. “I swear I know nothing about an assassination.”
“No one’s going to believe you. You’re going to swing for your crimes—unless you help us now. Unless we plead leniency for you.”
He saw reality sink into Fontaine, the fight leaving her.
Her shoulders sagging, she said in a low voice, “Davenport, he trusts no one. He never told me the plans, where we were going, only to be ready when he came for me.”
“That’s not enough to save you from the noose.” There was no time for her blasted dithering; Thea and Freddy’s lives were at stake. “If you have nothing better, you can rot in Newgate until you hang,” he snapped.
“No. Wait.” Fontaine licked her lips, her gaze darting around the room. “Perhaps… perhaps I do know something.”
Gabriel waited, his heart beating furiously.
“Davenport sent word to me to wait for him in that cottage in Camden Town. He told me to prepare for a journey by water. He was supposed to send for me at half-past eleven tonight.”
“Where is he taking you?” Gabriel demanded.
“I don’t know. I swear that is the truth.” Fontaine’s hands clasped in her lap. “All he said was to pack lightly and take only what I needed as there were to be several legs to the journey.”
Finally, a lead. Gabriel exchanged swift glances with the other men and saw his own hypothesis reflected in their pensive expressions. Fire lit in his belly.
I’m coming, princess. Tell Freddy not to be scared. Wait for me.
He gestured to one of Kent’s men. “Take the prisoner out of here. Keep her secure.”
“You’ll keep your word about clemency?” Fontaine said.
“If Miss Kent and my boy are returned safely,” he clipped out.
When the door closed behind her, Kent said, “He’s going to use the Regent’s Canal.”
Gabriel’s thoughts exactly. Davenport had chosen Camden Town for its location by the canal. From the lock, he could take a barge to reach the Thames and, from there, get out to sea. If he got that far… there would be no finding him. Gabriel’s gut clenched. He had to get to Thea and Freddy before they were put on a damn boat.
“My guess is that he’s got Freddy and Thea tucked away somewhere in Camden Town. Not far from Fontaine’s cottage,” Gabriel said tersely. “Sneaky bastard took the precaution to keep them and Fontaine separated in case the latter was found.”
“Do you think he knows we have her?” Strathaven said.
“He’s not supposed to come for her until half-past eleven. We have four hours yet, so he might not know. But there’s no time to lose.” Gabriel parsed out the strategy. “We’ll need three teams in Camden Town. One to monitor the cottage, one to comb the area for Thea and Freddy, and one to set up watch by the lock.”
“My men and I will take the cottage,” McLeod said.
“I’ll send word to my old colleagues at the Thames River Police,” Kent said. “They can help keep an eye on the lock and the barges along the canal for any sign of Thea and Frederick.”
“I’ll search the town,” Gabriel said.
“I’ll come with you,” Strathaven offered.
“And I as well,” Marius said.
Gabriel gave a curt nod, his hands curling. He was going to get Thea and Freddy back safely. After that, he’d deal with the Spectre—and deliver the justice the blighter deserved.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Help! Someone please help us!” Thea cried. “My boy is ill!”
She heard a muffled curse from outside the door, someone fumbling to insert a key into the lock. A minute later, the door swung open, and one of the lackeys stormed in. He took one look at Freddy shaking on the ground, and his eyes bugged.
“Mary’s tits, wots the matter wif ’im?” the cutthroat said.
“He’s got falling sickness. The stress of being kidnapped—it’s too much for him,” Thea said tearfully. “I’ve never seen him in such a bad way before.”
Freddy’s eyes rolled back, and he began making gargling noises.
The cutthroat crossed himself, stepped back. “What the bleedin’ ’ell am I supposed to do about it?” he said with clear panic. “Master ain’t back yet, and ’e’ll ’ave me ’ead if anything ’appens to the l’il bugger!”
“Unchain him so that I can make him more comfortable,” Thea said urgently.
The lackey removed the key from his pocket. Hesitated. “Do I ’ave to touch ’im?”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Thea said in disgust. “Just throw me the key.”
The guard dropped the key to the ground and kicked it over. Heart pounding, Thea grabbed it and unlocked the manacle on Freddy’s shaking foot. The open shackle clanked to the ground. Breath held, she reached as casually as she could toward the heavy cuff on her own ankle…