Authors: Andrea Pickens
"No, thank God," he answered in a near whisper. "He appears he will recover."
Hartley knotted his cravat with a sigh of relief. "Well, in that case, there is no need to be so blue deviled, man. Come, we'll stop by the club, then there is a cockfight I've gotten word about that promises to be most entertaining. And of course we'll put in an appearance at the Creighton's soiree."
Justin nodded glumly and finished dressing. Perhaps Freddy was right and it was best to keep occupied. However he still couldn't seem to banish his low spirits.
As the two of them headed for the street, an attendant approached.
"Excuse me, Mr. Chilton. A man left this for you. Said I was to give it to you when you was leaving." He extended a sealed note.
Justin broke the wafer and quickly ran his eyes over the contents.
"Freddy, you must excuse me," he said as he fumbled in his pocket and pressed a coin in the man's outstretched hand.
"Is something..." began Hartley, but Justin had already disappeared out the door.
Once on the street, Justin began walking blindly, at a pace that drew reproving looks from the number of gentlemen he shouldered past. Heedless of anything save for the words etched on the paper, his mind was racing as fast as his limbs.
The note read:
If you wish to see your sister alive again, be at the crossroads two miles east of the village of Weston at 6 tonight. Come alone, or else.
She had been right after all. Swearing silently, he wished he had taken Alex's warnings more seriously. It had been convenient to dismiss them as the exaggerated worries of an overprotective older sister even though, at heart, he had been known it was highly improbable that the accidents were mere coincidences. But it had seemed absurd that someone would try to harm him — what possible threat was he to anyone?
That was at the heart of the matter. Wrack his brain though he might, he could find no plausible explanation. And now, with Alex entangled in the web of intrigue, he still had no idea of how to begin unraveling the mystery. But the one thing he did know was that he would be damned if he would ride meekly to his appointed doom. Besides, Alex would be furious with him if he were to be so corkbrained as to fall into such an obvious trap without trying to figure out a way to best this shadowy nemesis.
He made himself think.
It suddenly occurred that the first step should be to make sure it wasn't a complete trick, that he didn't run off willy nilly without ascertaining that Alex was in fact gone. He flagged a passing hansom and hurried back to Half Moon Street.
Forcing some semblance of composure, he took a deep breath and entered the library. "Aunt Aurelia, have you seen Alex?"
His aunt looked up from her book. "No. Givens said she left here earlier this morning and she has not returned." There was a note of concern in her voice. "She received a note first thing. She said it was from Mr. Simpson regarding an invitation to view some newly arrived plants — but she was acting most strangely." She rose from her chair, her frail hands clasped tightly together. "Something has been quite wrong lately. Justin, do you know what it is that has Alex so upset?"
He took another deep breath. "I have an inkling."
Lady Backworth was near tears. "Is everything going to be alright?"
Justin gave her a swift hug. "You may count on it," he promised, though he wished he felt as sanguine as his words. "I have to go now, but don't worry. I'll find her. No doubt we will both be home for supper."
As she watched him disappear down the hallway she bit her lip in worry. She could only pray that he would make the right decisions.
Once out on the street, Justin began walking at a furious pace again. Think, he cajoled himself. Think!
Alex was clever. What would she do?
He considered his options. He had no idea how to begin uncovering the identity of his enemy or where to start looking for where he had Alex hidden. That did not make for a very auspicious beginning, he thought to himself with a grim set of his jaw. On top of that, he had no illusions as to the intent of the note's author — or his willingness to carry out his threat. He had shown that all too clearly in the past. No, whoever it was meant to kill both Alex and himself. The meeting tonight was nothing more than a lure to reel him in as well. But with the lure in the form of his sister, he had no choice but to rise to the bait.
Or did he?
He stopped dead in his tracks, drawing an acid comment from the young dandy who collided into his back. Stepping aside with mumbled apologies, Justin began to walk again, slowly and deliberately. It was a crazy idea — he was mad to even consider it. But he could think of nothing else.
Time was precious, and he had to do something.
Justin rushed up the townhouse steps and rapped hurriedly on the door. It opened just wide enough for a pair of wary eyes to ascertain who was seeking admittance. Once satisfied that it was not a certain, diminutive lady, the footman abandoned his rather undignified position of using the massive piece of oak as shield and drew himself up to his full, imperious height.
"His Lordship is not..."
Justin elbowed him aside. "I must see him!"
The footman seemed to measure who might come out on top in a battle of fisticuffs — at least here was an opponent against whom he had a fighting chance. He took a step towards the young man, who had stopped in the entrance hall, unsure of where to go from there.
"A life may depend on it," entreated Justin.
The other man hesitated. What had been a well-run, disciplined household had been at sixes and sevens for the last few days, and the earl, normally a sticker for obedience, had tolerated some peculiar intrusions. Seeing as he hadn't lost his position over the past evening, he sighed and motioned Justin to follow him down a long hallway, then left him in front of the closed door of the study with a silent indication that His Lordship was within. Regardless of the liberties allowed recently, he was not about to open the earl's inner sanctorum himself — the young man was on his own from there.
Suddenly Justin's mouth went dry. He felt all too keenly the awkwardness of his situation. It was one thing to have made a spur of the moment decision on the street, quite another to now be faced with seeing it through.
What would he say?
By all rights, he should expect to be thrown out on his ear. But he bucked up his courage by reminding himself that was the worst that could happen to him — then he thought about Alex and what could happen to her.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he opened the door and crossed the threshold.
Branford looked up from his papers.
"Chilton." He appeared surprised, but not unpleasantly so. "Pray, come in."
"Excuse my intrusion, sir, especially since — that is, I... " He gave up searching for polite words. "Alex has been kidnapped," he blurted out. "I don't know what to do. I... I thought perhaps you might help me."
Branford shot to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side. "Bloody hell!" he said through gritted teeth. "When?"
"It must have been sometime this morning." He took the folded note out of his pocket and thrust it at the earl. "I received this at Jackson's as I was leaving not half an hour ago."
Branford read it, then crumpled it in his fist.
"I've checked at home, to be sure," added Justin. "She left the house alone and has not returned."
"Marlowe," he roared. "Bring me my jacket and greatcoat — and my pistols. Have Sykes harness the greys and bring the carriage around immediately!"
Justin hung his head. "I'm afraid, sir, that I have no idea where to begin looking for her, or who is behind all of this..."
"Oh, but I bloody do," growled the earl as he took the young man by the shoulder and propelled him towards the door.
Once in the carriage, Branford immediately set to checking the priming of his weapons. The grim set of his jaw discouraged Justin from saying a word until the earl rapped on the trap and called out a destination.
"White's?" repeated Justin faintly.
Branford appeared not to hear him but kept his attention focused on ensuring the pistols were in perfect working order. Only when the horses came to a halt in the middle of St. James's Street did he look up.
"Wait for me here," he ordered curtly as he made to get out.
"But my lord," cried Justin involuntarily. "Surely you can't mean to enter White's at this hour with a brace of pistols.... "
The earl's expression caused him to swallow the rest of his words.
It was no longer than ten minutes before Branford returned, a look of grim satisfaction on his pale face. He spoke briefly with Sykes before climbing back into the carriage. A spasm of pain crossed his features as he eased himself in against the squabs. It didn't escape Justin's notice. Their eyes met and remained locked for a moment. Strangely, it was Branford who turned away to stare out the window.
The janglings of the harness mixed with the cries of the costermongers and bustle of the streets as Sykes set the horses to as fast a pace as could be managed. Even with one hand missing, he handled the ribbons with skill. Soon the team was racing towards the outskirts of the city.
Justin finally summoned the nerve to break the silence. "Sir, I wish to speak to you regarding our... last meeting."
Branford turned to look at him, an inscrutable expression on his drawn face.
"I truly regret having caused you injury, my lord. I meant to..."
"Don't be sorry," said Branford, his tone deliberately rough. "There is a cardinal rule in affairs of honor — never engage in one unless you are quite ready to send the other man to his Maker. Never forget it, if you wish to survive."
Justin regarded him unwaveringly. "I see. And naturally, you always adhere to your own rules."
"I missed."
The corners of Justin's mouth turned up slightly. "No doubt you think me a good many things, my lord, but I would have hoped that one of them would not be a bloody idiot."
Branford couldn't repress the twitch of his own lips. "No," he admitted. "I do not consider you a fool, Chilton."
"Then please do not try to fob me off with such a Banbury tale." His eyes shifted down to his boots and his voice became more tentative. "I don't really understand, sir. Why did you miss? We both know you could easily have put a period to my existence if you so choose — and have been well rid of a nuisance to yourself. I cannot but help wonder why you didn't." He hesitated. "I mean, it does not seem as if you should have any reason to care."
Branford looked uncomfortable. He shifted his position against the squabs and went back to staring out the window at the countryside rolling by. Justin had all but given up on getting an answer when the earl finally spoke.
"You have not asked me where we are going," he said abruptly.
"I imagine you will tell me when you see fit to do so, my lord," replied Justin. However he was determined not to let the other matter drop without a last attempt at getting an answer to his question — the fact was, as well as being deucedly curious, he was amazed that someone as cool and self-assured as the earl seemed to have conflicting emotions too. "But you are changing the subject."
Another slight smile pulled at Branford's lips, followed by a sigh.
"You may ask me that question after we have found Alex and I have had a chance to speak with her."