Page 27

T he Black Swan was at the end of a narrow lane the carriage could not comfortably turn in, so Patrick asked his driver to stay at the entrance.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking her hand. “Don’t let go of me at any stage.”

“I can’t walk in holding on to you,” she protested.

“You bloody will.”

“There is no need to swear,” she hissed at him.

Sophie may not have been born a lady, but he knew different. She was every inch one.

They walked with Patrick to her right and Stephen to her left, wedging her between them. Patrick’s chest felt tight, and his body on alert. Bringing her into this situation was a mistake, he could feel it, but she was right that only she could identify Jack Spode and the nanny.

“Don’t talk,” he said. “Just follow our lead and look like a… what you are.”

“Let’s stick with woman of the night even though there are many other terms for them,” Stephen added.

Patrick noted the faded sign decorated with a swan that was far more elegant than its surroundings. A few people wandered the streets, some in groups, and he couldn’t discount they were being looked over as a possible target to pickpocket.

“Stay close.”

“You’ve already told me that,” she said.

“But did you listen, that’s the point here,” he whispered back.

She muttered something he didn’t hear.

“If I don’t have hold of you, Sophie, then your nose is pressed to my back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I am not a fool.”

“I don’t remember mentioning that?—”

“Right, then, if you’ll both be quiet, we’ll enter,” Stephen said, cutting through their debate. He then pushed open the door, and they were greeted by noise.

Men spoke in raised voices to be heard over each other. Smoke clouded the air from those puffing on pipes, and combined with the scent of unwashed bodies, it blended together to assault their nostrils.

“Behind me, Sophie.” He nudged her to his back, and he knew Stephen would be behind her.

They walked, and Patrick wanted to plant his fist in the face of every man who turned to look at Sophie. Instead, he stuck out his foot as one decided to get too close to her.

“I thought we were trying to be inconspicuous,” Stephen hissed as the man fell into another, and they started arguing loudly.

He didn’t answer, forging a path through patrons to the bar instead. His eyes went left and right, looking for danger.

“Stay back,” he said to Stephen.

His friend would disappear into those closest to the bar and watch what played out.

“We would like a room for the night, sir,” Patrick said when they reached their destination.

Dragging Sophie forward, he placed her between him and the counter.

He then planted a loud kiss on her cheek while his fingers caressed one of her shoulders.

Sophie then giggled and then wriggled against him provocatively, which had him gritting his teeth as her curves brushed his groin.

“Don’t recognize you,” the man said, looking at Sophie. “Not one of the regular girls.”

He thought she was a prostitute, which was what they’d wanted, even as he wanted to punch the man for believing she could be. Before he could speak, Sophie did.

“Tell you what, love.” She stood on her toes and leaned forward, giving the man a view of her breasts that had Patrick’s hands tightening on her shoulders.

“I’m new around here,” she added, doing a little shimmy that drew the man’s eyes downward, “but I’ll give you a tumble for free now and then if you give me a good rate. ”

Where the hell did she learn to talk like that? Patrick wondered. Her voice was a husky purr. He’d reach across the bar in a minute and plant his fist in the barman’s face if he didn’t lift his eyes from Sophie’s breasts at once.

“All right, but you clean after you,” the man said, reaching behind him for a set of keys that he handed to Sophie. She beckoned him closer and planted a smacking kiss on his lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” Patrick hissed in her ear.

“What I need to do to get my brother back,” she whispered.

They walked up the stairs, and Patrick knew Stephen would follow soon. At the top, they veered right and down a hallway that had four doors. Two were on the left, two on the right.

“I’m here,” Stephen said, arriving.

Patrick indicated he and Sophie would take the ones on the right.

“Be careful, Stephen,” Sophie whispered to his friend as he made to move past them.

“Always” was his cocky reply.

“You stay behind me, Sophie,” Patrick said, reaching for another door. She pressed into his back. He only opened it an inch, then closed it quickly.

“Is it empty?”

“Yes,” Patrick muttered, trying to push the vision of a white backside pumping up and down with vigor from his head.

“Here!”

Stephen’s whisper had Sophie and Patrick running down the hall to where he stood.

“I can hear a noise in this room. A garbled sound I can’t decipher.”

Sophie tried to push forward, but Patrick simply picked her up and placed her behind him.

“Don’t be foolish!”

“It could be Timmy,” Sophie said, trying to get past him.

“And if you rush in, you may get a bullet through your head and be no use to anyone. Your brother needs you to show caution, Sophie.”

She gave a jerky nod of her head.

“Now,” Stephen whispered as he pulled a pistol from inside his coat and held it aloft.

Patrick turned the handle, but the door did not open.

Nodding to Stephen, Patrick dropped his shoulder into the wood, and it sprang open. Stepping inside, weak light from a candle showed him a woman tied to a chair, mouth gagged. A small child sat at her feet, sleeping in a pile of blankets. No one else was in the room.

“Is it them?”

“Yes.” She muffled a cry and ran to her brother. Stephen untied Mary.

“Everyone, quiet now,” Patrick said. “Stephen, look for a rear exit.”

His friend slipped from the room as Sophie picked up her brother and held him close. She then moved to the nanny’s side and whispered something in her ear. The woman nodded.

“This way,” Stephen said from the doorway seconds later.

“Mary, you go first, and Sophie, you will follow,” Patrick said. Thankfully, her little brother was still slumbering, his face resting on her shoulder.

Patrick nudged her out the door and along the hall. Reaching the end, there was another door, and they all filed out behind Stephen. Minutes later, they were down a set of external stairs. At the bottom, Sophie turned to look at him, her eyes wide with fear.

“I am here and will keep you safe. Follow Stephen, Sophie.”

She did as he asked, and soon they were walking back down the street to the carriage.

Once there, everyone was ushered inside.

Stephen sat beside Mary, who was pale but under control now, considering the hell she’d just endured.

Sophie was beside Patrick, cradling her brother like she would never let him go.

“Can you tell us what happened, Mary?” Stephen asked.

“I thought I heard Timmy cry out and went to check on him. When I walked in, there were two men. One held the boy, and the other a gun pointed at me. They then gagged me, bound my hands, and forced me from the room. I-I couldn’t find Doddy,” the nanny whispered.

“He is safe,” Sophie said.

Mary pressed a hand to her chest in relief.

“Can you describe either man?” Patrick asked.

“One had blond hair—dark blond.”

Patrick watched the hand Sophie had on her brother’s back clench into a fist.

“It’s all right,” he said, placing his over it. “We have Timmy now.”

“What else can you tell us, Mary?” Stephen asked.

“His voice was raspy, and he had a scar through the top of his lip.”

“It’s him,” Sophie said softly. “Jack Spode.”

“The other man was tall and dark haired, but he didn’t speak,” Mary added.

“Thank you for keeping Timmy safe, Mary,” Sophie said.

“He’s a good brave boy,” the nanny said.

When the carriage stopped at the Monmouth town house, everyone climbed out. Patrick walked beside Sophie to the front door.

“You must wake Letty now.”

“I know.”

“And we will increase the amount of footmen in the household, and no one leaves this house without at least two of them plus a maid at any time,” he added.

She didn’t speak, just nodded and carried her brother into the house.