The Viscount’s Vendetta by Kathy L. Wheeler

Thirty-Seven

A

m I gonna see Mellie anymore?” Penny whispered.

Maeve wrapped her arm around her and dragged her to her lap. “Yes, darling.” She glared at Mr. Jervis. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

Mr. Jervis’s grin seemed more posturing than flippant. He was nervous.

Good. Though Maeve couldn’t imagine why. He was the one who’d taken them. “Where are we going?”

He scowled. “Shut yer trap. I means it. Not another word, else I’ll dump ye on the street w’out stoppin’.”

He probably would too. Maeve clamped her mouth tight. She turned her head to the window, and he yanked the curtain across to block her view.

After a time, the carriage went down a hill and entered some sort of tunnel, and Maeve’s stomach dipped dangerously.

The carriage came to a halt, and Mr. Jervis pulled out a dirty cloth and tossed it at her. “Tie this over yer eyes.”

“I won’t.”

He pulled a pistol from his pocket. “Ye will iffn’ ye know wot’s good fer ye. I’ll take the child wit me now iffin’ ye don’.”

Penny clutched her hand. Her whole body trembled.

“It’s all right, darling.” Maeve glared at Mr. Jervis. “You’ll let her keep my hand if I do as you say?”

“Aye, aye. Make it quick, tho.” She couldn’t decide if his agitation was good or bad. He waved his weapon about, willy-nilly, which was bad, but they were still unhurt and that was good.

 

Harlowe reached the widow’s salon near Haymarket in less than ten minutes. He spotted Dorset immediately. A red haze clouded his vision, and he rushed the marquis, knocking him from his horse and to the ground. Harlowe drew back his fist, but Dorset was quicker than he appeared, and in a sharp twist, had Harlowe by the wrist and loomed over him.

“What’s the matter with you?” he growled in a low tone. His breathing came in heavy pants. “They have your wife. I managed to track the hackney to Suffolk Street, and they disappeared.”

“How did you happen to be at the park the minute Jervis took off with her?”

Dorset rolled off and sat up. “I ride at that time most days. Unless it’s raining. It was only by chance that I was about when that scene unfolded.”

“Where’s Rory? He was supposed to be following them?”

“Over here, milord.” Rory moved into view. He was still atop his horse. “I been scoutin’ the area. The hack took a turn off Whitcomb. Turns out there’s an underground entrance to the widow’s salon. So far, ye lady wife and the child are all right.”

But for how long?“Rory, go back and man the carriage. If something happens, contact Kimpton for assistance.”

“Aye, milord.” Rory set off.

Harlowe turned to Dorset. “Did you send Lady Harlowe lilies and rhododendrons?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What gentleman would send a lady rhododendrons?”

“Are you denying you sent my wife flowers?” Harlowe demanded.

“Of course I’m not denying it. I’ll have you know, the flowers I sent were before your nuptials.”

“And you didn’t shoot at me after the Martindales’ rout?”

“Good God, man. Never say…Where?”

Dorset’s surprise was enough to convince Harlowe Dorset was on the level, at least on this. “Hyde Park. The day you took her on a drive before we wed, she had several bouquets of flowers. Someone with the initial of S sent Lady Harlowe an arrangement of lilies and rhododendrons. As lovely as the flowers were, their message was meant as a threat.”

“Yes. Yes, I see what you mean. To set your mind at ease, I sent your wife—er, Lady Aly—” He cleared his throat. “The flowers I sent were stargazer lilies. Lilies suggest purity.” Dorset’s sincerity rang true, but how was Harlowe to trust him? “You don’t have all your memory back, do you, as Lady Alymer—pardon, Lady Harlowe—intimated?”

Harlowe studied him a long moment, then said, “Not completely.”

Dorset rose to his feet and threw out his hand. “Then I guess you’ll have to trust me, won’t you?” His smile more resembled a sneer.

There was literally no choice. Harlowe took his hand and came to his feet.

“Come, we’ve no time to lose.”

Harlowe stiffened.

“Again, you’ll have to trust me.” Dorset halted, pulled Harlowe back into the cover of the trees, and angled his head to the front door of the salon. “Look.”

Harlowe’s eyes went to the two men strolling up the portico. Shufflebottom and his old friend, George Welton. “They’re regulars.”

“Yes. They are.” Dorset brushed off his trousers. “If Lady Harlowe was taken inside, it is almost a certainty she won’t be escorted into the actual salon. There must be a basement of some sort, which begs the notion of the widow’s involvement.”

“Involvement.” Harlowe wished to know exactly how much Dorset knew. Perhaps it was time to trust the man. “The Althenaeum Order?”

“Yes. The members have been very good at keeping their identities secreted.”

Having Dorset confirm what Harlowe had suspected was a relief.

“They smuggle children. Most are stolen off the streets when the opportunities present themselves. But there is an even darker side. Some of the upper class children are targeted and transported to other countries. You may recall Irene Ennis’s abduction. She was not the actual target at the time. There was a man by the name of Vlasik Markov. He specialized in selling very young girls to other countries who desired wives for noblemen. The younger the child, you see, the more malleable and the probability of not remembering details.”

Harlowe swallowed a bite of bile. “I was assigned to this Order,” he said slowly. “One of the street urchins said Jervis had friends in high places.”

Dorset nodded. “We just haven’t been able to determine who.”

Harlowe heaved in a deep breath, squeezed his shaking hands into fists. “The fact that Jervis took Penny and Maeve—”

“Tells me the situation is precarious, and we need to act with a clear head.”