What a Lady Craves (32 page)

“I’m afraid I have not seen him all morning, sir. Is there anything I could assist you with?”

To the devil with the man. “Not unless you were schooled in Bengali or Hindi or bloody Sanskrit.”

Hirsch drew himself up, his expression his only answer.

Alexander bunched a fist in the butler’s lapels. “I didn’t think so,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

“Wait,” Cecelia intervened. “I saw him today, but it was much, much earlier.”

A cold jolt of shock speared through him. “Where? And why did you tell me you didn’t know where he was?”

“It wouldn’t have done any good, because I don’t know where he is
now.
He was upstairs, but he took himself off. I couldn’t tell you where.”

“Damn it, I haven’t got time for this.” And what cause did she have to lie to him? He’d have to consider that question later. He cast his sister a hard look before addressing the butler. “Hurry and find where he went. It so happens it’s a matter of life or death.”

When Alexander released him, Hirsch took a step back and tugged at his sleeves. “Very well, sir.”

“On your way, send every servant you encounter to look for my daughters. A pair of Indians took them along the path to the village. And a horse. Order a horse saddled for me.”

“Make that two,” Henrietta put in.

“No. There’s no sense in making matters worse.” The idea of Henrietta putting herself in the path of such men turned his heart to lead.

“I want to help,” she insisted. “Two horses.”

With a stiff bow, the butler turned on his heel and left.

Alexander marched down the passage and back, tearing at his hair. He’d lost so much—with three friends, among whom he counted his wife, a ship and its cargo. How was he to face the loss of his girls when he might have prevented it? And Henrietta on top of that? “I cannot allow you to slow me down.”

“What makes you think that? Good heavens, you were laid up in bed a week ago.”

“We cannot wait. My God, I
told
you what’s happened to the others. Do you wish the same on two little girls?”

Henrietta went as pale as his sister, whose complexion now matched the finest ivory. “You think they’d stoop to killing children?”

“Yes, God damn it, yes.”

Henrietta placed an arm about Cecelia’s shoulders. His sister dabbed at her reddened eyes. The look Henrietta unleashed on him was worthy of his aunt’s most scathing glares—it would have wilted new spring blooms on the spot.

“Losing your head will not help matters,” she admonished.

He took a breath, but it did nothing to calm the blood boiling through his veins. In all his life, he hated most to have a problem and be unable to act on it. “When you have children of your own, perhaps you’ll understand.”

“Do you think I’ve no heart?” She surged toward him, bright red splotches staining each cheek. “Do you think just because I’ve no family tie to those two girls, I could not possibly care what happens to them? Is that all you think of me?”

“You cannot possibly understand—”

She cut him off with a slash of her hand. “Oh, believe me, I understand.” She inhaled, her breasts rising and falling with the movement. “Our priority is to get your girls back, and to do so, we must remain calm and rational so we might devise a plan. I am willing to help you, but only as long as you rein in your temper. Are we in agreement?”

He nodded.

“Good. And once this is over, I never want to see you again. Do I make myself clear?”

Once more, he nodded. His brain was crammed too full of worry for his daughters to mount a protest.

At any rate, Hirsch padded back into view. “I regret to inform you that your servant is nowhere to be found.”

Henrietta’s eyes widened in horror.
Poor Alexander.
She shouldn’t let herself feel sympathy for the man, not after he’d acted the utter arse toward his sister. But at the same time, the need to lay a placating hand on his shoulder rose within. Anything to calm him down, for the news would no
doubt set him off again.

“Alexander.” She kept her voice pitched low, as if she were talking to a skittish colt.

But instead of erupting, he firmed his lips into a line and marched toward the back entrance. “My horse ought to be ready.”

Henrietta started after him. “You’re not leaving without me.”

He did not break stride. “Someone must remain here in case one of the servants finds the girls.”

“Your aunt and mother are here. Cecelia can inform them what’s happened.” Henrietta glanced over her shoulder. Her complexion pasty, Alexander’s sister followed rather more slowly. Henrietta paused long enough to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “In any case, you’ve been hurt. Someone should see to that wound.”

Once Cecelia hobbled off, Henrietta had to nearly run to catch up to Alexander. In the stable yard, a groom held the reins of two horses. The rest of the place lay quiet under a deserted air. If most of the household had already set off in search, so much the better. They still had a chance. She must believe that, and so must Alexander.

An hour later, Henrietta’s confidence had flagged. They’d gone door to door, but none of the villagers could report anything out of the ordinary. Not that day. Searches of barns, stables, pigsties had all proven fruitless.

They stood now in the center of the village, holding their mounts by the reins. Alexander eyed the Flotsam and Jetsam shop. “I wonder where the old beggar is really hiding.”

Tilly’s emporium lay dark and blanketed in a sad air of neglect. The door was shut fast, and no amount of pounding produced the slightest reply. Alexander kicked at the implacable wooden plank and swore aloud. The door merely shuddered before settling back in its frame. “Just as I suspected.”

“He really is gone,” Henrietta ventured. Peering through a window from beneath the shade of her hand gave only a view of dust motes drifting lazily through a shaft of sunlight onto the accumulation of junk in the shop.

“And he’s taken our last chance for information along with him,” Alexander grated.

“You … you don’t believe he’s …” She let herself trail off.

“If he is, then God rest him.” He looked away and muttered, “Another innocent soul on my conscience.”

“How does any of this lie on your conscience?”

“The girls do, certainly. I dragged Tilly into this by inquiring after my cargo. As for the
rest, I’m the only one still alive, aren’t I?”

“You cannot think that way. The girls are still alive, and we can save them.” Surprising how positive she could make herself sound without putting any effort into it. She
needed
him to believe, so she must sound as if she believed. Simple. Or it should have been.

“What else am I to think? I’ve lost everything, or nearly so.” He stared at her, his gaze intense with despondency. “What else can we do?”

The bleakness behind his words turned her heart over, and she reached out to place her fingertips on his forearm. “We have to maintain hope.”

He let out a strangled sound. “And where else might we look?”

Lord help her, she had no idea, but she had to find some reply. Anything to erase that expression from his face. “Perhaps we need to approach the problem another way.”

“How? How can we do that? My daughters are missing. What’s left but to look for them?”

She gazed up the hill toward the manor. According to Cecelia, the girls had been halfway to the village when their abductors had leapt out from behind a rock, except the only real stones along the path belonged to the low wall that protected passersby from the cliff. “You have the note.”

“A note only Satya can read, and he’s also disappeared.” Still, he pulled the scrap of paper from his waistcoat.

She plucked it from his grasp and smoothed it flat. A mishmash of lacy gibberish met her gaze, but something about it told her it was in a language he could probably speak. “Can you read some of it, at least?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Whatever they want is probably somewhere in that cipher, but without someone who can properly read it, we’ll never know for certain what it is.” He let out a harsh laugh. “On top of that, we have no idea if whatever they want is at the bottom of the English Channel. How’s that for irony? They chase me halfway around the world, leaving a string of bodies in their wake, only for whatever they want to be irretrievable.”

“But we already have an idea what it is.” She nodded toward the saddlebag where he’d hidden the jewelry box. “And it’s not lying at the bottom of the sea.”

He pulled the object out and considered it. “We don’t know that with any confidence. This traces back to Foster, ultimately, and he may have given something to Marianne or had her hide it, because they did eventually come after her.”

The box with its precious inlays mocked them from his hands. Yes, and the means to
opening it was a secret—one the girls knew. It was a perfect place to hide a treasure. “Are you sure it can’t be her jewels?”

“We’ve been over this.” He shook his head. “No, there’s nothing there. I’m sure of it.”

“She couldn’t have hidden something in with them without you being aware?” Another idea flashed into her mind. “And come to think of it, Satya was very interested in that box when I had it, and now he’s gone.”

“No!”
His temper came roaring back into his voice. “I will not believe he’s betrayed me. He couldn’t have. Why wait until we’re all the way back in England? He could have returned to his own people.”

“Would they have accepted him? Didn’t you tell me he served you as a point of honor and he would have disgraced his family if he failed in that duty?”

“Damn. Damn, damn, damn!” He punctuated each word by pounding his clenched fist on the jewel case. His horse snorted and tossed its head. “You’re right, of course. Here, no one would know of his past.”

Despite her earlier irritation with his behavior, another upwelling of sympathy flooded her chest. He’d lost his daughters and a man he’d counted on as a friend all in the same day. God willing, they could still get the daughters back. Perhaps they wouldn’t have to decipher a thing. “I think we ought to have a look at what’s inside. If we can work out what they’re after, we may not need the note, after all.”

“All right.” He wrapped his reins about his wrist so he could use both hands. “We’ll have a look, but I’m positive we won’t find anything.”

He ran a hand over the smooth wood. Before she could see how he did it, he opened the lid. The string of pearls Francesca so adored spilled into his palm. Beneath the necklace lay the ear bobs Helena had delighted in wearing.

Henrietta scrunched her eyes closed at the sight. Dear God, please let those girls have another chance to wear their mama’s jewelry.
Please.
The poor things, they must be so frightened, in the hands of violent strangers, not knowing when they’d see their papa again, having already lost their mother. Henrietta’s throat stung.

One by one, Alexander considered each piece before tucking it into his pockets. “There’s nothing here I can’t identify. All of this was hers. All of it.”

“And were all those pieces obtained by legitimate means?”

Slowly, he raised his gaze. “As far as I know.” But something in his tone suggested doubt. He shook his head. “Harry gave her some of this. The rest was in the family. But if he
gave her anything forbidden … He loved her. Why would he do such a thing?”

“Perhaps he did not know.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his forehead. “I’m no longer sure what anyone knew. Harry, Foster, Marianne, any of them.”

Henrietta ran a hand along the pearl inlaid side. Another thought had just occurred to her. “Is that everything?”

“Why, yes.”

“I was just considering, an object like this might have more than one secret.”

He frowned and held the box up to inspect it from the bottom. “Even if it did, I don’t know that we could work it out in time. Foster gave this box to Marianne, and he had to show her the trick to opening it.”

“Still, it’s awfully sturdy. It survived the shipwreck and Lord knows what kind of pounding on the waves and rocks.” She held out her hand. “Might I see?”

He passed it over, and she hefted it. “Odd, it’s awfully heavy for its size now that it’s empty.”

“It’s the type of wood along with the inlays. They make it heavier. Something about the technique.”

“Still.” She shook it. A rattle echoed inside, a small, heavy object like a stone. Raising her brows, she exchanged a look with Alexander.

But inspection revealed no other latch, not even a hinge or a crack, and the bottom was secure.

“I don’t know any other means of opening it,” Alexander said. “If I could only find the key to this accursed box, because nothing will break it. I’m about ready to throw it from the cliff.”

“You might finally manage to break it open that way, but I don’t think—”

He shook his head. “I’m not quite that desperate yet.”

She’d have laughed but the situation hardly warranted mirth. “What are we desperate enough to attempt, then? Head back up the path and try to find the spot where the girls were taken?”

“And what shall we do when we get there?” Even though he questioned the plan, he led his mount off in the direction of the hill.