The Countess' Lucky Charm (29 page)

She gaped at him. She didn’t doubt Gentry Ted—if he said Temple was being held prisoner, then it was true. Had he been captured because he had been searching for her in the areas of London he thought she might be? Exhilaration exploded within her quickly followed by dismay. It was her fault he was in trouble.

“But Temple is alive?”

“I think so or I would’ve heard. I fear Mortimer-Rae is going to extract his pound of flesh before doing away with him.”

“You don’t mean—”

“Aye, I do.” He nodded his head emphatically. “Torture.”

“Where is he? We must rescue him!” The thought of Temple in trouble brought waves of nausea. She had thought him securely ensconced in his London townhouse, doing whatever a gentleman of means did.

Nay, instead he faced peril, death even. She couldn’t allow that to happen. She could rescue him; she would rescue him. Then they would be even. “Will you help me find him?”

“Aye, I’ll help ye, Mona. Ye always was my little girl. Still are,” he added. “Wait.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out an orange. “Look what I have for ye.”

She took it from him, cradling it in both hands. Her nose caught the tangy scent and she was transported back to the morning she had eaten an orange and tossed the peels into the ocean for the sea gulls. Then she had been hopeful, excited over the new land and new life that beckoned, had even entertained daydreams of loving him.

Sadly, the daydreams were over, dashed by words spoken in anger to the dowager countess, words witnessed by countless others.

The chasm between her and Temple was simply too great to cross.

However he was in danger and the very chasm separating them would serve her well now. This was her world, not his. He was the stranger here, not her. For him, she would put her well-earned talents to use.

She lifted her eyes to the grizzled man who regarded her fondly. “We will save him, won’t we Ted?” She tucked the fruit into her reticule. “I’ll take this with me for luck. When shall meet again?”

“I’ll come by the workhouse for you tomorrow after I do a bit more nosing around.”

She nodded in understanding. “I’ll be ready.” She rose and gave him a gracious nod. “Until then.”

As much as she chafed at the thought of waiting, it would give her the time to retrieve the packet. Surely Mortimer-Rae would trade Temple’s life for its return?

* * *

In the privacy of Mrs Dougherty’s kitchen, a stunned Simone kneeled, not feeling the rough stone pressing into her knees. Temple’s box lay on the scrubbed floor in front of her. The knife she had used to pry it open lay beside her, blade bent with the force.

Gold coins glittered in the firelight—more gold than she had ever imagined existed. Along with the deed she had found inside, there was more than enough for her to start a new life.

Inadvertently, Temple had given her a chance—if she still wanted it.  

Chapter Twenty-Two

Simone sat back on her heels and chewed her lip. Nay. She shook her head. She couldn’t walk away from Temple. If there was the slightest possibility the box and its contents could save him, then that’s what she would do.

With trembling figures, she re-wrapped the box in the oiled cloth and tied it up with twine.

* * *

“What do ye want?” A scowling Mrs Dougherty barred Gentry Ted’s entrance to the workhouse.

“I’m here for Mona.”

“She’s too good for the likes of ye, now bugger off.” She shook her fist at him.

“Leave him be.” Simone moved up to stand beside the older woman. “We have business together.”

Mrs Dougherty threw her a look plainly indicating her doubt at the wisdom of Simone and Gentry Ted doing business together. Nevertheless, she stepped back. “Watch
yer
backside,” she said with an audible sniff. She continued to glower at Gentry Ted, who, not intimidated in the slightest, gave her a cheerful grin.

“I will,” Simone assured her then marched down the steps to link her arm with Ted’s. “What did you discover?”

 
“
Yer
lord is in a warehouse by Blackfriars Bridge. We may have to search one or two ‘cause I couldn’t figure out exactly which one. But we’ll find him,” he assured her.

Poor thing, the news on Temple had taken its toll on her. Worry lines scored the parchment of her face; black smudges pooled beneath eyes faded with fear and anxiety.

“Mind ye take care of her or
ye’ll
have me to answer to.” Mrs Dougherty’s words swirled after them as they moved away to join the throngs on Bishopsgate Street.

“Of course I’ll take care of ye,” Ted muttered. “She don’t need to remind me.” He patted Simone’s hand where it lay upon his elbow.

“Pay her no mind,” soothed Simone. “She’s feeling protective of me. Now, where do we have to go?”

“Upriver from Blackfriars.”

Simone shivered. “Not the most pleasant neighbourhood.”

“Ye just need to keep
yer
wits about ye, Mona.
Er
, Lady Leavenby.”

“Mona is better. Not as pretentious.” As if she had any right to be pretentious.

“Speaking of pretentious, your cloak won’t do.” He shook his head. “It’s too fine to be wearing in this end of London.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But it was just to get away from Mrs Dougherty.” She pulled it back to reveal a stained and tattered skirt coupled with a rough woollen shawl. A heavy linen sack hung over one shoulder, carrying Temple’s box; she hoped it didn’t show beneath the shawl. “We’ll stash my cloak once we get closer to the bridge.”

The two continued at a brisk pace, heading toward Cheapside and St. Paul’s Cathedral. Now that she actually did something, the helpless feeling over Temple’s predicament fell away. Aye, as difficult as it had been to do nothing the past hours, Gentry Ted had come through for her in her quest to rescue Temple. That is, if he still needed rescuing and not a burial.

Of course he does, she scolded herself. My heart tells me he’s still alive.

“Here.” Gentry Ted said at length, stopping at a narrow lane that twisted away from the thoroughfare they were on.

Dilapidated brick warehouses lined it, each one leaning into its neighbour as if they propped each other up. Simone had the fanciful notion that if she pushed too hard on the first one, the street would tumble like dominoes.

“Are you certain?” Dubious, she peered down the haphazard row. Save for two burly porters struggling with a sack-laden cart lodged in a mud hole, the lane was empty.

“Give me your cloak. We’ll hide it here.” Ted stuffed it into a crack.

“Won’t they see us?” She gestured toward the porters.

Ted shook his head. “They’ll think we’re looking for a quiet place to conduct business, if ye get my drift.” He winked at her.

“Of course,” she nodded, flushing. It was just a game. As abhorrent as it was, she could play the part.

“This way.” He pushed her ahead of him. “Closer to the river.”

The porters lifted weary heads as they approached.

“What are ye
buffle
-headed gents
lookin
’ at,” Simone sneered as they skirted the hapless pair. “
Ain’t
ye ever seen a
workin
’ girl afore?”

“Give us a kiss, luv,” teased one.

“Can’t ye see I’m busy? But I could come back for ye in a bit—” She pursed her lips suggestively, squeezing her upper arms together to enhance her cleavage.

“Come on,” Ted pulled her arm. “
Yer
mine, I paid for ye.”

“Ta, boys, I’ll be back for ye.” She blew them a kiss.

“Now they’ll be looking for us to come back,” Ted grumbled as they trudged on.

“Then we shan’t return this way.”

“Sauce box.” However the smile on his face softened the curtness of his words.

They followed the alley, which crooked toward the river. Overhead the buildings almost touched and made it difficult to distinguish the slop ditch in the growing darkness.

“Aren’t we there yet?” Simone groused when her foot slipped into the malodorous muck for the third time.

“I see the place.” Gentry Ted stopped in front of a crumbling edifice, indistinguishable from the rest in Simone’s opinion.

“How do ye know?”

“That.” He pointed to a painted barrel dangling precariously from the heavy beam extending from the peak of the building. “They told me to look for a red barrel.”

“Or it could be that one.” She waved her arm to the adjoining building. It too had a red barrel, only this one was wedged beneath the latch on the double doors. “What’s in these buildings, do ye think?”

“Empty. Or so they told me. ” He rattled the latch on the first warehouse. “Let’s try this one.”

He rattled it again vigorously with both hands before stepping back to inspect the door. “Hell’s bells, that
ain’t
opening. Look, it’s been nailed shut and for quite some time, judging by the rust. I doubt he’s in here.”

“Try the other one.” She walked over to tap the barrel blocking the door to the second warehouse.

Ted put his shoulder to it. “It’s moving,” he grunted. He shoved again with enough force that the barrel, with an indignant squeal from the latch as it broke free, tipped upright.

Ted stood up, mopping his face. “I tell ye, that barrel
ain’t
empty.”

A burst of crazed laughter echoed behind them.

“Some one’s coming,” she hissed then ducked behind the barrel.

 
A decrepit cart piled high with a mound of what appeared to be rags lurched its way into view. Simone didn’t know which was sorrier: the swayback nag pulling it or the hunchback hobbling along beside.

Ted grabbed her hand to pull her from behind the barrel and shoved her around the warehouse corner. “Wait here.”

Nonchalantly pulling a pipe from his pocket, he strolled away from view back to the front of the warehouse.

Simone sagged against the wall. On jelly knees, she slid down to a squat, leaning her head back against the bricks. Her heart had leapt into her throat at the sight of the rag cart and she breathed deeply, trying to quell the nerves roiling in her stomach. With straining ears, she listened to the exchange between Ted and the carter, chafing at the delay.

“Good day.” Ted’s pleasant voice drifted through the dank air.

“Leave me be,” replied the carter, his querulous voice demonstrating his displeasure at being interrupted. “If I were ye, I wouldn’t be spending time here. The gent that owns this warehouse don’t like street scum hanging about.”

“I took a wrong turn. Thought I’d stop to catch me breath before I headed back.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ye. The gent, he’s a vicious one. I’ve seen with me own eyes what he does to them he don’t like,” he cackled. “Now leave a working man be and get out of my way.”

Simone exhaled heavily as the cart creaked away from view.

“That were close,” Ted remarked as he slouched back to join her.

“Where do you think he is going?”

“Eh?” Ted shrugged. “That way leads to the river. The poor bugger must have a place to call home somewhere down there.”

“Do you think it’s safe now to go inside?” Simone’s voice quivered.

“Aye,” Gentry Ted nodded. “I took a closer look at the latch. It’s unlocked.”

“Then let’s not waste more time. I don’t like it here.” Simone stood, wiping her gritty palms on her skirt.

“Come on.” With a cautious peek around the corner, he motioned her to follow him.

By the time she reached the front doors, he had already slipped inside. She glanced about the empty alley then scooted in. Ted closed the door and the wedge of light disappeared, throwing the room into gloomy darkness. She stood disoriented for a second while her eyes adjusted to the murk.

The smell hit her like a workhouse bully. It smelled of oil and tea, manure and wool. Her nose ached and her skin crawled with it.

Worse, it smelled of something else: rats. As if to confirm her thoughts, she heard a rustle and a muffled squeak behind her.

Rats. She shuddered. She hated rats, had hated them when they ran across her bed at night, hated them for the filth they left behind. Nay, it was beyond fear. It was terror, irrational terror. Bile rose in her throat and she fought the urge to flee. They were here to look for Temple and nothing could dissuade her from that task. She swallowed hard, forcing the bile back into her stomach.

“We don’t have much time,” warned Ted. “We don’t have a lamp and it’s getting dark.”

She nodded. They started forward, Simone clinging to Gentry Ted’s arm.

The room was long and narrow, lit only by what light managed to filter in through a series of narrow windows high on the walls. For the most part, it was empty save a few barrels and crates piled in the farthest corner. They scuffled along the dirty floor, littered with straw and mouldering bits of cloth and rope.