Page 17 of One Night in Vauxhall Gardens (Singular Sensation #11)

May 13, 1819

May Day ball

Broadmoor House

Mayfair, London

Theresa waited outside the ballroom of the Broadmoor townhouse as knots of worry worked her stomach, for Harry hadn’t yet made an appearance and neither had her brother, for that matter.

Where are they?

Two days ago, Harry had told her a bit about his past and the incident in the military that had been one of the defining moments for him. After that, they had come together with all the energy of a summer storm. What was more, he hadn’t withdrawn when he’d hit release, and that one tiny act had worked to bind them closer.

In the aftermath, she had been thoroughly connected to him, felt as if their souls were bound, and what was more, she knew beyond a doubt she was falling in love with the man. As unbelievable as it sounded to her, she trusted him more than anyone else in her life; his care and concern and willingness to marry her despite her past made her feel adored, protected, wanted… nay, needed, for they were both that to each other.

More than anything, she’d wished to dance with him tonight as a way to show society that even broken people had value if one looked hard enough into the wreckage.

Yet he wasn’t here.

“It’s a bit rude of the men to leave us on our own, isn’t it?”

She turned about at the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice. With a smile, Theresa nodded. “A bit, yes.” The countess was a vision tonight in a silken gown in varying shades of green. She was every inch the harbinger of spring, and easily could Theresa believe the woman had stepped out of the garden in order to bedevil St. Vincent. “What a wonderful gown. It suits you well.” A delicate spray of emeralds and peridots set in silver to resemble a stem of leaves had been placed in her upswept blonde-brown hair and glittered with her every movement.

“Thank you, Theresa. Now that the sickness in the mornings is somewhat evening out, I feel as if I’m able to be more active socially again. It’s good to dress in fine clothes and be seen.” She flashed a smile as she trailed her gaze up and down Theresa’s form. “However, your gown is stunning. Simply stunning.”

“Oh.” She moved her gloved hands down the front of her gown to smooth some of the wrinkles. “Thank you. It’s a new one my mother ordered for me after I became engaged to Hedgecomb.” This garment was a bronze satin with a sheer lace overlay on the skirt. Tiny clear and brown crystal beads had been sewn all over the gown with higher concentrations at the hem and around the low scooped bodice. “I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention when the modiste suggested the pieces, for I was far too worried about the state of my engagement.” However, the moment she paired the diamond and ruby parure Harry had given her with the gown, she felt like royalty.

A sly grin curved Rachel’s lips. “Well, I’m certain the earl will adore you in this gown. So much so that he’ll whisk you away to a shadowy corner and steal a kiss. And how could he not? With those rubies, anyone would notice you tonight.”

“Perhaps that is the point? He specifically asked me to wear them.”

“Ah. Cheeky man, that. He and my husband wish to enrage and draw out Lady Stover.” Then she winked while a blush raged furiously in Therea’s cheeks. “Can I assume that the two of you are rubbing along well indeed?”

“Every day that goes by, we grow closer in many different ways.” Briefly, she bit her bottom lip. “I don’t mind telling you that I am looking forward to marrying him. And not just for the protection of his name.”

How had he done it? How had he delved beneath her defenses, torn them down, carried her beyond the fear, and then gave her the freedom to try living her life again?

“Wonderful!” Rachel grabbed Theresa’s hands and squeezed her fingers. “St. Vincent and I have been on pins and needles hoping the match would take, since it began with protests and hard feelings.”

She frowned. “Did you think I was unhappy being a spinster before?”

“It wasn’t that, dear. We just knew you weren’t yourself, and since you refused all efforts to put you out into society, when the scandal at Vauxhall happened, it seemed quite fateful.”

Though she wanted to be mad at the other woman, she simply couldn’t, not when the advent of Harry into her existence had quite literally made her feel human again, had helped her learn how to see the world without bitterness and fear.

“He has been… surprising. Let’s say that.” She grinned, and it felt good to do so. “But where is he? Harry promised that he would be here.”

“So did St. Vincent.” Rachel frowned as she glanced about the corridor. “And we’ve been standing here long enough that if they’d already gone in, when we didn’t join them, they would have come looking. My husband has a possessive streak just now.”

Theresa snickered. “Protective, rather.”

“There’s that.”

Before they could do anything else, Viscount Aldren and his wife came over to their location. The viscount was visibly agitated while Theresa’s friend and his wife Caroline had worry in her eyes.

“Where is St. Vincent?” the viscount asked without pleasantries.

Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know. He and Hedgecomb were supposed to meet us here, but they haven’t arrived.”

Theresa laid a hand on Caroline’s arm. “What’s wrong? You’re afraid. Why?”

“A messenger came by the house as we were getting into the carriage,” she explained in a tearful voice. “It was from Lord Timelbury. He said some of the rogues were at the club when they were accosted by two men wearing black and in masks. Timelbury’s shoulder was dislocated in the struggle while Winteringham came out with a few bruises.”

“What?” Rachel gasped and held a hand to her throat. “Are they all right?”

“As far as I know.” Viscount Aldren had paled. “I was running late for the meeting, but from what I managed to gather from Winteringham—I caught up to him as we arrived here—someone broke into Edenthorpe’s office at the club and tore it to shreds.”

“Looking for what?” Theresa wanted to know.

“I couldn’t begin to say.” The viscount shrugged. “But I’ll wager Lady Stover is angry enough to spit.”

Fear played icy fingers down Theresa’s spine. “St. Vincent and Hedgecomb are missing. Were they supposed to be at the club before coming here?”

“It’s possible. Winteringham said there were signs of a scuffle, but he didn’t indicate the two earls were at the club or had been there.” He shrugged. “I’m so sorry.”

She glanced at Rachel. “Do you think they were taken by Lady Stover’s goons?”

“It’s possible, I suppose, especially in light of the ambush at the club tonight.”

Before anyone could speculate further, the Duke of Broadmoor himself strode along the corridor toward them with a piece of paper in his gloved hand. His very pregnant duchess trailed behind him a bit back.

“Lady St. Vincent! A moment of your time.” He set his gaze briefly on Theresa as well. “You too, Lady Theresa, since this pertains to not only your brother but your fiancé too.”

Rachel transferred her attention to the duke with rounded eyes. “Of course. What is amiss?”

“Oh, no,” she whispered as her stomach plummeted.

“This was just delivered to me and has alarming connotations.” He handed her the paper then when his wife caught up to him in a navy gown that shimmered when she moved, he slipped an arm about her waist.

“Dear God.” All the color drained from Rachel’s face, and she staggered backward a few steps. Viscount Aldren caught her before she fainted. He led her to a chair with gilt legs that rested along the wall and urged her into it.

“What?” Gently, Theresa took the paper from Rachel’s hand and read it aloud. “’Dearest Lady St. Vincent and Lady Theresa, for I know you attend the same event tonight, I have one simple message. Both earls will not be long for this world by the time you are reading this missive. It seems they’ll be shooting the bridge soon after being well and truly beaten by my most faithful lieutenants. If I were a more benevolent woman, I’d demand you bring something valuable to trade for them, but I won’t because I want them to die. They can join Edenthorpe in the next life, and I have much to do yet. You’d best hope their bodies are found on the morrow, for I did warn both men that I would demand retribution and soon. Respectfully, Lady Stover.’”

Oh, dear God. It is happening, and I’m not ready.

Utter silence met the end of Theresa’s reading of the letter. Everyone looked at each other with matching expressions of shock, unease, and despair. Fear held her spine in its unrelenting grip. She clutched Rachel’s hand in support and comfort while the viscountess guided the duchess to a chair nearby.

Tears welled in her eyes. It felt as if she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Harry had been taken and no one except his captor knew where he was. To make matters worse, he was with her brother, and both were in dire straits. “What do we do now?” The words were hardly louder than a choked whisper.

“What can we do?” Rachel said into the growing silence. “I never thought Lady Stover was so deranged, she would actually kidnap two well-respected earls from the beau monde .”

Caroline snorted. “Well, for one, if it was my brother or my fiancé who was missing at that bitch’s hand, I wouldn’t be wasting time at a ball. I’d be going off into the night looking for them.”

How much did she love her friend? “But how would I even know where to begin searching for them?” She perused the short missive once more. There were no clues she could discern. “The only thing Lady Stover has wrong is that she believes Edenthorpe is dead, which means the spy never received that information.”

Which was encouraging unto itself.

Broadmoor rested his gaze on Aldren. “We can’t have the ladies traipsing out into the night by themselves. Obviously, my wife and I can’t go either.”

“Neither can I,” Rachel added with a blush in her cheeks. “As much as I want a chance to lay Lady Stover low, I can’t risk the new child I carry, nor will I leave my daughter an orphan if things go wrong.”

“No one is asking that of you.” Theresa laid a hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder even as her stomach quaked with fear. “But I have nothing to lose. The man I…” She cleared her throat. “The man I love is out there in danger, and I won’t let that woman win if there is anything I can possibly do.” If Harry was right and being brave was doing something while being frightened witless, then that’s where she stood.

“God, I adore how strong the women are who are involved with the men of the Rogue’s Arcade.” Aldren shook his head as his gaze landed on his wife. “It’s up to me, Caroline, and Theresa then. We’re going off, and if luck is with us, we’ll find the two earls before… Well, we’ll find them.”

“Where, though?” Tears fell to Rachel’s cheeks and her breath came in fast pants. “No one knows where they are.”

“That isn’t exactly true.” The Duke of Broadmoor cleared his throat then flushed as everyone glanced at him. “Lady Stover isn’t as clever as she apparently thinks she is, for she left us a rather large clue.”

Theresa frowned. Would the man not get to the point? “Such as?” Warmth slapped her cheeks. “I mean, if you would please enlighten us, Your Grace?”

With Caroline snickered, the duke explained. “Lady Stover said the men were ‘shooting the bridge’ which is basically slang for when traffic on the Thames attempts to go under London Bridge between the narrow arches and wide pier bases. During low and high tides, pressure is different on both sides of the bridge, so that makes for treacherous rapids. Many sailors have drowned trying to transverse one side to the other.”

“But why would Leo and Harry even be on the river tonight?” She didn’t understand the reasoning.

Viscount Aldren shrugged. “Perhaps they don’t have a choice? Perhaps they were rendered unconscious.”

Rachel gasped. “And that means if they’ve been placed in a boat somewhere near the piers, they won’t have a chance when tide rises.”

Hot panic rose in Theresa’s chest. “We must go. Immediately. I don’t know if we have a chance in hell of saving them, but for me, I have to try.”

Because she wouldn’t give up on him. Not now. Not ever.

“Right.” The viscount nodded. “Come on, ladies. We have work to do.” He looked at the duke. “Send a note ‘round to Winteringham or whomever else is available. We’ll welcome the help.”

Broadmoor inclined his head. “I will, of course. Godspeed, Aldren. I don’t relish telling Edenthorpe we’ve lost his best friend.”

“Do shut up, Graham,” Caroline hissed in a whisper as she grabbed his hand. “We will prevail. Just you watch.”

“Thank you for the support.” Though Theresa wanted to vomit into the nearest potted plant, she tamped on the urge and bussed Rachel’s cheek. “We will do our best. Please try not to fret. The rogues are quite hearty and very fortunate. You’ve seen it yourself.”

“Yes, but when does that luck run out after so many near misses?”

Gently, she eased her hand from her sister-in-law’s. “Never let go of hope. Outside of love, it’s the most powerful weapon we have.” Then she ran after the viscount and his wife, into the unknown.

Be strong, Harry. Dig deep. You are not alone.