M Is for Marquess (35 page)

“Just ’is,” the guard commanded.

That would have been too easy.
Tossing the key back, she said, “He needs some water.”

The guard shuffled off.

The second he was gone, Thea whispered, “You’re doing an excellent job, dear.”

Freddy stopped shaking. Flashed an impish grin.

When the door opened again, he took up the convulsing movements with verve. Thea took the water from the terrified guard and told him that only rest and quiet would help the boy now. The cutthroat seemed more than happy to get away from them. He slammed the door shut, the lock clicking.

Listening to the boot steps fade away, Thea said, “Let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

She and Freddy made their way stealthily toward the alcove. It took some effort, but she managed to get him onto her shoulders. Perched there, he could reach the boarded-up flue.

“The top of the board’s loose,” he whispered. “Hold me still, and I’ll give it a pull.”

Perspiring under the boy’s weight, she nonetheless held him firmly below the knees and braced them both. He yanked hard. The plank gave way with a crack. They both froze at the sound… and at the sudden, stunning whoosh of crisp night air. When the guard didn’t come bursting in, Thea craned her neck, trying to see out the hole.

A patch of gravel. Beyond that, nothing but darkness. As much as she fretted over sending Freddy out there alone, he would be in far greater danger if he remained here.

“Go quickly now,” she urged. “Climb through.”

Tossing the board out onto the gravel, Freddy grabbed onto the edges of the hole. Thea’s lungs strained with effort as she gave him as much of a boost as she could. An instant later, his weight lifted from her shoulders, and she watched, her breath hitching as the soles of his boots disappeared through the opening.

A moment later, his anxious face peered back down at her. “I don’t feel right leaving—”

“Remember what we discussed. Keep moving until you can find a hackney to take you home or a public place where someone can help you. You’re a strong and clever boy: you can do this.”

“I’ll bring Papa back. We’ll come back for you,” he said, his bottom lip trembling.

“I love you, Freddy. Now
go
,” she said urgently.

At last, he obeyed. She couldn’t see him, her ears straining for any sounds that might indicate that he’d been spotted. But no cry came up, nor any sounds of scuffling. She slumped against the brick, looking up into the exposed night. Worry filled her as she thought of Freddy alone in the dark world, but at least out there he had a chance.

Her head bowing, she prayed that he would find the way home.

***

Night saturated the country sky like indigo ink, darkening Gabriel’s spirits. For the past hour, he, Strathaven, and Marius had been canvassing the quiet streets of Camden Town, a village just north of London. He’d stopped through this bucolic hamlet several times before on his way to Hampstead or Highgate and had thought it rather quaint. Never in a million years had he imagined that he’d be here on a desperate search for his son and Thea. That somewhere in this sleepy town a treacherous spymaster was hiding, preparing for the final game.

“There’s another tavern up ahead,” Strathaven said. “The Bedford Arms. We can ask if anyone there has seen Thea and Freddy.”

They approached the bustling building. To the side of the tavern was an arched entryway with a painted sign above reading, “Tea Gardens.” The raucousness of the crowd beneath the strings of lights indicated that beverages significantly more fortifying than tea were being served.

“You two take the gardens,” Gabriel said. “I’ll inquire inside.”

He entered through a door that badly needed oil on its hinges. Patrons were elbow-to-elbow at the rough trench tables. He honed in on the barkeep behind the scarred counter, a beefy ginger-haired man pouring out tankards as fast as the harried-looking barmaids could scoop them up onto their trays. Gabriel approached and laid down a quid.

The barkeep didn’t lift his eyes from his task. “What’ll it be, sir?”

“I’m looking for two people. A woman and a young boy,” Gabriel said.

“Can’t say I’ve seen any boys in here.”

Hope dwindled, yet Gabriel tried again. “The woman, she’s pretty. Thick golden-brown hair, slender, with delicate features.”

“Gor, I’d have noticed a female like that.” This time, the barkeep raised his head to give Gabriel a man-to-man wink. “But, sorry, guv, I haven’t seen her.”

Fear and desperation gripped Gabriel. His temples throbbed, the creaking door and jovial crowd a dull roar in his ears.
Where are you, princess? If you’re here somewhere, send me a sign—

“Guv, this boy you mentioned… could he look a might young for his age?”

Gabriel’s attention snapped back to the barkeep. “Yes. He’s slight.”

“Tow-headed? Bran-faced?”

“You’ve seen him?” Gabriel demanded.

The barkeep pointed over his shoulder. “Standing behind you, guv.”

Gabriel spun around. Couldn’t believe his eyes.

There, standing on the threshold, was Freddy. He was pale and disheveled, dirt smearing one cheek and a rip at the elbow of his jacket. But he looked otherwise unharmed.

“Papa?” he said in a quivering voice.

“
Frederick.
” He was over in three strides, his arms enfolding the boy, holding the small, trembling body close. “How did you get here? Where’s Thea?”

The boy gave a sudden sob. Pulled back.

“We have to go back for her, Papa. Now,” he blurted.

Ice coated Gabriel’s gut. “Where is she?”

“Back at the house where they took us. The bad man, Davenport. She told me to pretend to have a fit and helped me escape through a hole, but she couldn’t get free because of the chains. They still have her, Papa!”

“Slow down, son. Take a breath.” Gabriel took hold of his boy’s shoulders. “Now tell me where this house is.”

“I don’t know the address.”

Frost spread into Gabriel’s blood.

“But I think I can find it again.” Exhaling, Freddy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial. Eyes wide, he said, “I left a trail with the invisible ink. If we follow it, it will lead us back to Thea.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“I think this is it,” Freddy whispered, pointing at the fencepost.

Gabriel held the lamp close to the whitewashed wood. Seconds later, a blue cross flared into sight. His muscles tautening, he said in a low voice, “Excellent work. I’m proud of you, son.”

Freddy’s smile was wobbly. “Are we going to get Thea now, Papa?”

Gabriel eyed the brick building beyond the fence. A number of such small country manors were spaced along the banks of the canal. This one was partially hidden by trees, the crumbling stone a spectral silver in the full moon. No lights shone from the windows, and the property had an eerie, abandoned feel. A place where ghosts lurked. Behind the house, water flowed as dark and steady as a vein.

“She’s in the basement?” he said.

“Yes, Papa. To the right side of the house. I got out through the venting hole, but I don’t think you’ll fit through,” Freddy said in a worried voice.

“I’ll figure it out.” He turned to the others. “Strathaven, take care of Freddy, will you?”

The duke nodded gravely. “He’ll be safe with me.”

“Ready, Marius?” Gabriel said.

His comrade nodded, pistol in hand. “Let’s finish this once and for all.”

“Papa, you’ll be careful won’t you?” Freddy said with a quiver.

He cupped his son’s cheek. “Always. Now be a good lad and keep watch with His Grace. We’ll be back in no time.”

He jerked his chin at Marius, and the two of them set off. They crossed over the fence, approaching the house by the field rather than the pebbled drive. They moved stealthily, in the old, coordinated pattern, covering one another as they neared the house. They paused behind a hedgerow. Through the leaves, Gabriel had a view of the right side of the manor and saw the bushes Freddy had described. The hole must be behind them.

He made the gestures.
I’m going in. You cover.

In answer, Marius nodded and cocked his pistol.

Gabriel rounded the hedge and sprinted toward the side of the house. He made it to the bushes and crouched, parting the brush. The hole was there, just as Freddy had said.

His blades drawn, he called softly, “Thea?”

Silence. His heart raged.
If anything’s happened to her…

A rustling. Chains clanking. Seconds later, he heard her tremulous reply.

“Gabriel?”

Relief shot through him. “By the window, love.”

Her face surfaced from the darkness, her eyes wide. “Gabriel, you must run. He’s back—”

He heard a thunderous crash. Thea whipped around, screaming, yanked from sight an instant later. In her place, metal glinted, and Gabriel threw himself to the side just as a blast came from the hole, the shot tearing through the bushes. He rolled to a crouch, pressed against the wall of the house, knives ready; he couldn’t let them fly for fear of hitting Thea. He heard scrambling from within, Thea crying,
Let me go
, the sounds of her being dragged from the room.

“Marius, take the front. No one gets out,” Gabriel shouted. “He has Thea!”

Marius was already clearing the hedgerow toward the front entrance.

Gabriel raced to the rear of the house. The windows were shuttered, preventing him from seeing inside. Dead brush surrounded the courtyard, trunks piled upon the graveled path that led to a small dock some fifty yards away. A barge bobbed on the dark waves. Cicero’s escape route.

Over my dead body.

He heard sudden blasts of gunfire from the front. Marius at work.

The rear door opened, two cutthroats charging out, their guns blazing. Gabriel ducked the fire, rolling smoothly behind the trunks. In the instant his enemies took to reload, he aimed, releasing his blades simultaneously. The men fell to the gravel. Gabriel paused to yank his weapons from their unmoving bodies before continuing on.

He crept through the open door, his senses on high alert. A room of empty shelves. No movement here. Footsteps overhead. The floor above. His blood pumping hot and fast, he headed out of the room toward the sounds.

In the paneled corridor, he saw the darkness lightening up ahead. The foyer and access to the upper floor. Two doors between him and the foyer. He moved on, knives at the ready. Floorboards creaked, doors opened, and two brutes tore into the hallway. Gabriel went in low and fast, his right blade slicing cleanly upward, his left crossing his body in a deadly arc. Blood slid hotly over his fingers, bodies thudding to the ground behind him. He kept right on moving toward Thea.

Toward the only thing that mattered.

He took the stairwell up, following the sounds. He kicked open the door at the top. A ballroom. The balcony windows were open, white curtains whipping against the dark sky, ghostly reflections dancing along the mirrored walls. At the far end…

Thea.
My love.

Cicero stood behind her, an arm around her throat and a pistol held to her head.

Options flashed. Flick of the wrist and Gabriel would have the blade embedded in the soft giving spot between Cicero’s eyes. Or a curving throw to that place in the side of the neck, the one that made a man bleed out within a minute. He could do either before Cicero even pulled the trigger.

And Cicero knew it. Which was why the lily-livered bastard was using Thea as a shield.

“Let her go,” Gabriel said, “and I’ll kill you quickly.”

“That was always your problem, Trajan. Talented killer,”—Cicero shook his head mournfully—“terrible negotiator.”

Gabriel’s fingers itched to make the kill. But he couldn’t risk Thea getting harmed.

Keep Cicero talking. That’s his weakness. Wait for an opening.

“I haven’t your talent for selling our country’s secrets to the highest bidder,” he said evenly.

“But you do have a rare aptitude for ruining my plans.” Cicero’s smile bared his teeth. “Normandy still wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson, it seems.”

“Clever of you,” Gabriel said, “pretending to be taken prisoner along with me and Tiberius. Screaming so loud we believed you were being tortured.”

“I had a sore throat for days.” Cicero’s grin widened.

“How did you survive my dagger? I saw you fall.”

“I was wearing a vest of chainmail. In such situations, I always take precautions.” The spymaster shrugged. “For years, your knife made quite the souvenir. Pity I had to pawn it.”

Gabriel’s grip tightened subtly on the hilts. “Money? Is that what this is all about?”

“My dear fellow, money is what everything is about.”

He had to distract Cicero, get Thea loose…

“You have money,” he said evenly. “You married an heiress.”

“Alas, my access to her fortune is not as I had hoped.” Cicero smiled thinly. “I would have managed, however, had Octavian not caught my trail. The codger never knew when to stop, so I had to stop him. For good. But then you got on the scent.”

Half a foot­—that was all it would take. If Thea was just half a foot away from Cicero, Gabriel could safely go in for the kill. He willed her to recall the moves he’d taught her.

Surprise the bastard. Attack him. Free yourself.

“You’ve led me on a merry chase,” he said.

“It
is
rather refreshing to share my triumphs. Seeing as how dead men and women don’t talk,”—Cicero dug the gun’s muzzle deeper into Thea’s temple, causing her to wince and Gabriel’s fingers to twitch around his blade—“I suppose there’s no harm in indulging a little, is there? I planted the documents you discovered in Tiberius’ safe. And the blackmail note, supposedly from the Spectre, that you found in my desk. Do you honestly think you could find something of mine if I didn’t intend for you to see it?”

“Why try to kidnap Freddy?”

“For leverage over you—you’d do anything I said with your boy’s life on the line. Eventually, I would have ransomed him back to you.” Cicero’s arm tightened around Thea’s neck. “But now I have someone just as good, don’t I? Enough parleying. Throw your weapons toward me, or I’ll put a bullet through her pretty head.”