Page 76 of A Secret Correspondence
Jacob spoke softly. “Remain here and watch. If you need to call for the constable, run into the taproom. Surely someone will be around who knows how to fetch him.”
She gave a dip of her head to indicate she understood, and Jacob slipped away. With each man in position, they had createda triangle, prepared to close in on Armand and trap him in place. He would not be able to escape, and they would shortly have him in hand.
The shadows of the alley hid her from view, but she crept back a step anyway to be sure no one would see her. The streets were quiet. Marguerite’s pulse pounded in her ears, blocking her ability to listen for other sounds, but she strained to hear movement in the churchyard across the road. She could see the shadow moving toward the gravestone and her hands came together, much like a gesture of prayer.
They were so close to putting an end to this. Marguerite’s greatest hope was that no one would be hurt. It should be her closing in on the man now and demanding he believe that she did not have the diamonds in her possession, but her friends wouldn’t hear of it. In truth, she was grateful for their support. This experience would have been far more frightening had she been forced to endure it alone.
An overwhelming wave of gratitude swept over Marguerite for these friends. Even more so, she was grateful for Samuel’s influence on her state of happiness. He had become so important to her in the last year through his letters, and that had only deepened as she had come to know him better.
Love. Helovedher? Just the thought brought a warm swirl into her chest, coupled with her own feelings. She understood, for she felt the very same way.
She turned her head to look for Samuel in the darkness when a motion behind her in the alley caught her attention. Had Ruth awakened and chosen to join them?
“No, you don’t,” came a gravelly voice as a rough sack was thrown over Marguerite’s head, an arm locking around her waist. She jerked, letting out a scream before a large hand clamped over her mouth.
“Quiet, or I’ll knock you out.” The voice was in her ear, the hand pressing against her mouth and nose.
She couldn’t breathe. She stomped down hard on the attacker’s foot and he swore, but he didn’t release her, his arm growing tighter.
Marguerite bucked and kicked as the man turned in the alley. He released her mouth, and she sucked in a full, stale breath of air, screaming as loudly as she could. He leaned down, circled her legs with his arms, and threw her over his shoulder.
Then he ran.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A scream rent the air. Samuel looked toward the alley where Marguerite had been waiting, but she was no longer there. He searched the churchyard for Oliver and Ridley, noting their positions, and recognized he had a choice to make.
There was a small chance the person in distress was not Marguerite, but he was unwilling to take that chance.
Samuel did not consciously choose between catching the jewel thief and protecting Marguerite. Samuel inherently knew. He stood and ran through the uneven grass, then vaulted over the rock wall running the perimeter of the yard. He sprinted across the road into the alley as the screams began again.
What he witnessed made him see red.
A man had the woman Samuel loved over his shoulder, then he threw her into a carriage like a rag doll. Samuel bolted forward while the bounder climbed into the driver’s seat and hit the reins quickly, the horses protesting angrily as they took off over the cobbled road.
Samuel called out, his voice echoing between the stone buildings he ran between. When he reached the mews at the other end of the alley, he could see the edge of the carriagedisappear around the corner, so he continued to run. His lungs burned, but he followed that road until it turned again, catching the edge of the vehicle, listening for the horses’ hooves. The silent night made it easier to hear the wheels on the road, but still he pushed himself. He would not lose sight of her.
As the carriage reached the toll road, Samuel’s feet came to a stop. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard. Moonlight shone down through the clouds above, lighting the wheels turning over the bridge and down the road. He breathed heavily, certain he knew where they were going. If his group was fast, they could catch up. He could reach Marguerite. He could still save her.
Samuel turned back toward the church. He drew in a breath, ignored his screaming lungs, and started to run again.
Ridley and Oliverwere waiting in front of the church when Samuel returned. They had a man between them, long and slender, hook-nosed and belligerent.
“He says a gent paid him to creep in the churchyard and distract us,” Oliver said. “He is not our man.”
“Ourman took Marguerite,” Samuel said, chest heaving as he sought air. His parched throat needed a drink. “They are on the road toward Harewood now.”
“You are certain?” Ridley asked.
“I saw him put her in a carriage, and I followed them until the toll road. He must have known she hadn’t come alone.” Samuel sucked in more breath, waiting for his heart to return to a steady beat. “It wasn’t Leclair.”
“Who was it?” Oliver asked.
“I did not know the man, but he was not Leclair. They could be working together, I suppose.” He started across the road. “We need to leave now. I will call for the carriage.”
“I will fetch my wife and settle our rooms,” Oliver said.
“I will question this person and see you at the carriage shortly,” Ridley said.
